The Cruel Twists of Fate
by Personification of Fluff
Summary: AU, R for sex, violence, and language. As the war against Shrabranigdo comes to head, Miroku and Sango's relationship may make or break the tides of war. But when tragedy strikes Miroku, Sango's has a choice: her job at the IBSP, or treason and Miroku.
1. Chapter 1

The Cruel Twists of Fate

Author: Personification of Fluff

Rating: R, for violence, sex, and language

Title: The Cruel Twists of Fate, which was taken/inspired from a line in Aamalie's _Sweet Tooth_

Category: Alternate Universe, Sequel to _Nihil Credo_, Romance, Mystery, Drama, etc... And major crossover

Disclaimer: Sesshy, Rin, Inuyasha, Miroku, Kikyou, Kagome, and Sango all belong to Rumiko Takahasi. Ranma and Akane and Akane's family belong to Rumiko Takahasi. Alphonse and Edward Elric belong to the creator(s) of _Full Metal Alchemist_. Piroku belongs to Fred Ghallager and _Megatokyo_ (I've just been reading it alot lately, and I loved the drawing style of that character!). Margo belongs to herself. Rezo, Xellos, and Shabranigdo belong to the creator(s) of _Slayers_ and _Salyers Try!_. Fuu and Ferio belong to Clamp's _Magic Knights Rayearth_, and Suichiro to Clamp's _WISH_. Kakashi and Sakura belongs to the creator of _Naruto_ (and Sasuke and Naruto will probably appear as well). Van, Merle, and Hitomi belong to the creator or _Escaflowne_. Last, and certainly not least, Rukia, Abarai Renji, Ichigo Kurosaki, Yoichiru, and Urahara belong to the creator of _Bleach_. All said, these charcters are not mine. I do not claim to have been their creators. Is there one OC in this series? Um... not yet!

Summary:

It has been two years since Shabranigdo was ressurected. Sango and Miroku have ben dating for those two years, and Akane and Ranma have continued their acceptance of their arranged marriage, though they have not had any romantic interactions (like a date). The IBSP has been dismantled and distributed across Tokyo to protect the members. After two years, the IBSP has had enough. Kikyou/Shabranigdo has been bringing so many creatures into the world that they've had their hands full trying to simply curtail the appearance of demons within the city. Who better to start the steps to bring down a demon claiming to be a god than the people who had first been on the case? Sango, Miroku, Akane, and Ranma.

But will their feelings for one another help their progress or hinder it? Worse, when Shabranigdo gets her hooks into Miroku after two years of failure, Sango will have a series of difficult choices to make. Will she remain faithful to the IBSP, her home and emplyer since she was a teenager, or will she choose Miroku and treason?

* * *

Prologue

Rezo Houshi was fifty-two years old. He worked as a university professor in Japan, lecturing on ancient religions. It was part of the history program. He could read ancient texts. He was quite knowledgeable. It was with regret that the university was letting him go early. He had applied for early retirement. Rezo had lived out the last two years teaching with a fervor that had inspired many of his students, but he said he could no longer keep up with that way of life. As he was leaving the university, he stopped, staring with brown eyes at a handsome young man leaning by the exit.

His favorite student: Miroku de Forest. He was also the only student Rezo had who knew his three deepest, darkest secrets. The first was the Miroku knew Rezo was actually blind. He had been born blind and had lived with it until two years ago. Then a woman by the name of Kagome had rewarded him with the gift of vision, taking the vision of a half-demon by the name of Inuyasha and giving it to him. Second, Miroku knew that the reason why Rezo had been rewarded was because he was a follower of a powerful, eternal, god-like deity named Shabranigdo and that Rezo had successfully called the demon from the astral plane into the real world. Third, he knew that Rezo had helped to commit murder. To summon Shabranigdo they had required the hearts of innocent victims, including his friend and fellow class mate Eve, the eyes of a kind psychic named Hitomi Kanzaki, and the blood of Miroku himself.

It was no wonder why Miroku was glaring at Rezo as he left the building after having announced his impeding early retirement. Rezo had once been Miroku's favorite teacher. Now Miroku was disgusted by him.

"You're only allowed to walk out of here on a technicality. If we had a shred of evidence linking you, you'd be…"

"But you don't," he smiled, wagging a finger. "You don't have anything, Miroku. Youths are so impudent now a days. There was a time when you would have been sad to see me go, Miroku."

"Don't get cocky. Part of me still is sad to see you go. You're a good teacher. You're not a good person, but you're a good teacher. I think that's part of why I hate you so much, Rezo. You're capable of leading others into your webs all too easily."

The older man smiled, brushing back violet hair. His brown eyes flashed gold as a brief flare of anger was felt, and then subsided. "It's been two years, Miroku. You're graduating this year. You have my congratulations. I noticed you were top of the class. It's quite an achievement, especially given your extra curricular activities."

The slanting light in the hallway of the setting sun made Miroku's Adonis-like face all the more heartbreaking as he glared at Rezo. The extra-curricular activities he had referred to at once involved flirting with every girl on campus and skirt-chasing. After Eve's death, however, they focused primarily on his part time job at the Independent Bureau of Studies for the Paranormal—the IBSP for short. It was an agency rooted back hundreds of years, meant for the continued protection of a particular genus of minorities: demons. It monitored their behavior, enforced laws, kept them from attacking humans, and kept humans from attacking them. For the past two years, work had been wearing them thin.

There was a war going on. Sometimes Miroku thought even the humans could feel it. The fear had been getting so thick Miroku's empathic abilities which made him an ideal worker in the IBSP had been saturated with it. There had been kidnappings, and excessive murders. People simply began to go missing. Sometimes, on a rare occasion, whole families disappeared. Girls traveled together at night in huddled masses. Weapon shops reported that their sales had increased five-fold. Some people theorized it was the Japanese mafia. Others thought it was a mass murderer, a government conspiracy.

The truth was that it was the demon Rezo had unleashed out upon the world. She had summoned her followers after taking over the body of Kagome Higurashi. Now the IBSP spent their time trying to track down the demons she had unleashed upon the world.

"Thanks," he said dryly.

The silence stretched between them as they stood there, glaring at each other. Slowly, Rezo smirked. "How's the tiger?"

Miroku smirked right back, gesturing behind Rezo. "Ask her yourself."

Rezo turned. He could see gold eyes peering out of the darkness of a classroom door. They were the wild, gold eyes of a cat, but rather than sitting at shin-level they were at the height for the eyes of a normal human girl. As she stepped into the light Rezo had to admit that Sango Tora resembled nothing like a human girl. She moved with the grace of a seasoned fighter, and carried the slim, well-built physique of one. Her eyes were really hazel but in the right light they couldn't help but flash gold. With her gently slanting cheekbones, the almond shaped eyes and the slight point at the tips of ears there was something almost delicate and elfin about her face. Perhaps what made her stood out the most was the color of her skin. It reminded him a caramel, a light tanned color that gave her a healthy, outdoors appearance that both men knew was natural. She was, after all, only half-Japanese.

Rezo greeted her warmly. "My dear, I still say that if Shabranigdo had remained in your body I would have been ten times more willing to follow him."

For no more than fifteen minutes during the summoning of the Demon Lord of Nightmares Shabranigdo had used Sango's body as his host in the human realm. Sango had fought back and had won, but that time had been the most painful time in her life. She still heard his voice sometimes, mocking her. Rezo's comment elicited a growl from her which made his skin crawl.

Rezo turned back to Miroku. He seemed to be the more sensible one to talk to. "I see… are you two detaining me for my arrest?"

Miroku pursed his lips. "We have to follow the rules, Rezo. I'm not stopping you from walking out these doors, nor is Sango. She's here to keep you from attacking me."

His smile was sardonic. With the gold eyes, Miroku almost felt as if he was talking to Inuyasha. "Isn't that cute? You two really do everything together, don't you? Do you think you're brave for choosing to love each other in the midst of war? Do you think that makes you fight harder or faster? You don't. It makes you weak, Miroku. It makes you two a very easy shot." As he walked by Miroku he gestured what he meant with his fist, making a small explosion with his fingers. "Boom. One shot, good bye to both of you."

Miroku looked ready to throw a punch. Rezo's hand was resting on the door of the exit. He wasn't looking at Miroku. He knew his student had more self control than that. His anger didn't stem from what Rezo had said but the fact that it was the truth. Miroku had recognized it before himself, and to have Rezo point it out felt humiliating. Rezo's hand didn't leave the door as he spoke, his voice quiet.

"Think about that, Miroku. You don't both have to get hurt." With that he pushed the door open and walked into the sunset.

The door slowly swung shut behind him. Miroku's fist relaxed and he looked down at Sango, who stared back at him quizzically. She offered him a tentative smile and he slowly managed to smile back. Miroku walked to her and took her hands in his, kissing her cheek gently. Even after dating for two years she was touched at the small token of affection. Part of why Sango liked Miroku was because he appreciated the power a small token could have rather than something large and flashy.

He winked at her. "Come on. I'll drive you back to my house. Fuu will be finishing up supper now. Her cooking's always much better than Akane's."

Sango pulled him back as he tried walking away. She didn't take her eyes from his. Sometimes, when she thought he was being evasive, she wished that she had his power of empathy. "Are you okay, Miroku?"

Miroku decided to be honest. "No," he admitted. "I don't think I will be soon, either. I'm confused, Sango. How can I hate him while at the same time respecting him? It doesn't make sense to me. I don't think I'll ever understand it. Even though he's betrayed me—hell, he helped to try and kill me and turn you into Shabranigdo's new body—I still can't help but recognize that the man is a genius. His writing skill is unbelievable, he's managed to learn the old language and speak it fluently… I should hate him all the more for hurting you and betraying me… but I _still_ can't help but respect him…"

He sighed and turned to look at Sango. "At least you I can understand a bit more, Sango. After all, you'll never hurt me like that, will you?" Miroku smiled. It was a stupid and goofy question to ask. He knew the answer, but he liked hearing it.

Sango touched his cheek gently. "You, sir, are my partner. You watch my back…and sometimes you watch it far too well and walk into a wall. No, you'll never live it down, Miroku. I love you. How could I possibly think of ever hurting you?"

Little did she know that in the weeks to follow, she would hurt him; she'd hurt him repeatedly. In the end, that was the only chance Miroku would have to save his life.


	2. The Ring

AN: Illithids are not mine. As far as I know, they belong to Wizards of the Coast for the various Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. AKA: not mine. Though I am proud to say I have a very wicked 6th level Druid... my pet is a velociraptor so large I can ride it. We've nicknamed him puppy. But Illithids? Not mine.

Chapter One: The Ring

"It's coming your way, Akane!"

Sango's voice broke out over the ear-piece in Miroku's ear. He was surprised to learn the illegal demon they were trying to catch had managed to get past Sango. She was a strong fighter, which was why they had put her in the forefront. If they could catch the demon right away it would save a lot of strife. Behind her waited Akane in ambush, in case the demon got past Sango. Behind Akane was Ranma. Miroku smiled when he thought of the partner he had known the longest. Ranma was no doubt shuffling about, trying to think of how he could apprehend the demon with the least possible amount of trouble. For being a strong, confident, and graceful fighter, Ranma had gotten sick of it in the past two years.

Last, there was Miroku. His lungs hurt as his feet pounded against the leaves and twigs on the park ground. There was a reason that Ranma, easily a better fighter than Akane, was last in their line of defense. He was there as a last-ditch effort to keep the demon from getting to Miroku. The demon they were hunting, an illithid, was known for feeding on psychic energy.

Miroku was a psychic. He was the bait.

Over the ear piece he heard grunting as Akane engaged the creature. A safe distance behind them, Miroku took the opportunity to lean against a tree, breathing heavily. His throat felt raw. Miroku began patting down his pockets, and cursed out loud when he realized he must have dropped his inhaler behind him somewhere.

Besides Akane's sounds of fighting, there was silence. Miroku was not a strong psychic—he was just an empath—but he excelled at reading people in every way possible. Rolling his eyes as he began tracing back his steps, peering down at the dark forest floor in hopes of finding his puffer, he could feel that Sango was worried about him. That was why she was being so quiet. With her astute senses she could hear his arrhythmia as he tried to breathe.

"Are you okay, Miroku?" she asked, concerned.

Her voice was sweet and honest. Miroku knew that she was honestly concerned about him, but she _always_ was, and at times it irked him. Okay, so he wasn't a half demon like she was. Sure, he wasn't as strong or he didn't have as much stamina… but did she always have to slow herself down or not use as much muscle as she could? He knew she did it so that she wouldn't hurt his feelings, but always having to be dealt with as if he were inferior was just as bad as losing.

Worse was when she treated him like an invalid. Miroku was being unfair to her when he thought that—he knew that, but he couldn't help it. As of two years ago, he'd had to occasionally rely on a puffer to help him breathe. That was what happened when your lungs starting tearing themselves apart, when you had to have surgery, and when you inhaled a shitload of smoke, all in the same week. His lungs couldn't work as well as they could, and so sometimes he needed a boost to help them perform properly. It wasn't serious. It was just asthma. It was common. But sometimes, she looked at him when he reached into his back pocket for it, and he saw pity.

More than anything in the world he hated pity. When he had been a teenager there had been a short while when he had loved pity. Miroku had learned then that sometimes telling the truth—and being pitied because of it—was a great way to get girls into the sack. They would hold him, kiss him, and love him as if he had been emotionally neglected his whole life. That had worn off quickly.

Now he hated pity. He hated seeing it. He had hated seeing it on the faces of his teachers when he'd been eight years old and getting beaten up at school. He had hated seeing it when people found out he was an orphan, as if his foster parents were inferior because they weren't biologically related. He hated it. And he hated it on Sango the most.

On more than one occasion, back before Shabranigdo had been resurrected, back when he and Sango had been partners for a short amount of time, there had been several occasions where it looked as if one of them might die. Miroku, it seemed, especially. Now every time he coughed Sango was there, afraid she was still losing him, pitying him the weaknesses of his body, wishing to make it better…

And he felt he was taking advantage of her.

What was the difference, he sometimes wondered, between Tora Sango knowing the truth and the chicks he'd picked up at the campus bar four years ago? They had been a one night stand—maybe even sometimes a month or two at most—and Sango was going on two years. He loved her, that was part of the difference. He loved her enough that he hadn't wanted to jump in bed right away, and for a long time he had kept a safe distance from her… but did she only want him because when they had started dating she had expected it to be a short relationship? Which of them had expected it to last two whole years?

Ah, there was the puffer.

Worse, when she looked at him, he could tell she was afraid for him. She was afraid that every cough, every missed breath or heartbeat, was a sign that Miroku was about to die.

The thought washed over him, carrying away the frustration that had made his muscles tense. He sighed, dusting off the puffer. She was concerned about him, and she was so because she was his girl friend.

"It's nothing, Sango. I guess I'm just a little out of shape to be running full speed through a park at eleven at night." He took a deep puff of the inhaler.

Miroku _was_ honestly worried that Sango was just going out with him because she pitied him. Worse, he occasionally wondered if she still loved Urahara and that she had agreed to go out with him simply because she thought he'd die soon. He was never jealous of the time she spent with Urahara. Kisuke Urahara, the head of the technological department of the IBSP, was far too formal and honest to ever get too close to Sango when they were alone together. If he did get close, it was in such an open, friendly manner that Miroku knew he had nothing to worry about.

Besides, he knew that Sango did care for him. He had been ready to die for her to save her. To save him, Sango had given up her innocence and shed human blood. But, whether or not Sango loved him was not the question. There were different kinds of love. There was the fond, devoted attachment Kisuke Urahara displayed towards Tora Sango. There was the fun, brotherly love that Miroku felt for Ranma, and for Akane. There was the respectful love he felt for his foster parents, Hououji Fuu and Ferio de Forest, senior members of the IBSP. Then there was the deep-seated love he felt for Sango, the love that refreshed itself every week so that each time he saw Sango is was like seeing her again for the first time.

How did Sango love him?

He smiled, leaning against the tree and continuing his break. He could feel his heart beginning to beat in a steadier rhythm, and his lungs didn't hurt so much anymore. Miroku put the puffer back in his pocket, and patted one of the front ones.

Miroku had a plan to find out whether or not Sango loved in a temporary matter or an eternal one. He had had the plan for a long time, but he never knew how to ask her. Part of him wanted to be traditional: fancy dinner, white wine, down on one knee… but Sango liked fun too. Maybe it would be better some other way, like at a dance hall… what about waiting for a day with fireworks?

He could never figure it out… So he carried the little blue velvet box with him everywhere…

It was missing.

Miroku looked back in the direction from whence he came. It must have fallen out of his pocket, like the puffer had… This time he managed to curse mentally. Miroku bit his lip as he contemplated going back and looking for it. The demon was back there… but so were his friends… and the engagement ring…

With a sigh, Miroku began trudging back into the forest. His eyes were locked to the ground for signs of the blue velvet box. It would be much more difficult to see than the puffer. At least that had a silver side to it that sparkled in the moonlight. The box would be probably next to invisible, but at least… Miroku groaned. At least? At least the chances were unlikely that the box would have popped open as it fell, sending the engagement ring flying? Miroku's world thrived on taking unlikely and turning it into Miroku's reality:

He was dating a half-demon. He was being used as bait for a spirit-sucking entity from another plane of existence. He belonged a secret government which 5/6 of the world knew nothing about. His boss was a full demon. There had been repeated attempts on his life because his blood had been the secret to resurrecting a demon lord.

With his luck, the ring was not only probably lost, but swallowed by a frog who would turn into a prince and demand Miroku was now his wife or something.

Akane let out a short scream. It crackled in the ear piece, and Miroku stopped when he realized he was close enough to the fight to hear her scream clearly with the other ear. How was it that he'd seem to run for ages away from the demon, but two minutes of walking led him right to it?

"Akane!"

"Saotome Ranma, you can get to your fiancée later! Hold your position!" Sango barked. She was also breathing heavily now. She had been running, obviously. There was a pause, and since Ranma didn't retaliate she figured he had obeyed. "Akane, you okay? I'm on my way!"

"Yeah," Akane answered. "I'm fine. The bastard got away, though. He headed towards the north-west, towards the end of the park where the bath houses are."

"Okay. Ranma, can you intercept?"

"I've got the outhouse in my sights. As soon as he runs by, I'll jump him." Ranma paused tentatively. "What happened, Akane?"

Akane's voice was muffled. "It threw me into a tree. Luckily, it was an evergreen, and turned out to be surprisingly comfortable, for a tree."

"Miroku, where are you?" Sango asked.

Miroku looked around him. "There's a raccoon three feet to my left." Nobody said anything. "What? Akane can make jokes and I can't? Like I bloody know where I am! I'm surrounded by trees and there seriously is a raccoon three feet to my left. Just follow the bloody demon. If it catches my scent then it will change course…oh, shit."

Miroku was staring at the raccoon. The damn thing picked up a small box from the ground and was examining it, paying no interest at all in Miroku until he swore. At this oath it looked up, almost as if it felt guilty. The beady black eyes, looking at him with a mixture of innocence and cunning that seemed disturbingly human, seemed startled. It clutched the box.

"Oh shit what?" his friends demanded.

He thought quickly. "I stepped in raccoon shit," he answered. Miroku ripped off the microphone after that. The last thing he needed was to distract his friends or have Sango questioning him.

Ducking his head, crouching to appear less threatening, Miroku slowly began edging towards the raccoon. He even held out his hand as if offering food. They were on a campsite. It was possible that the raccoon knew the gesture enough to think that Miroku was genuinely offering some rare human delicacy—corn on the cob or Cheetos, for example.

"Come here, little raccoon… come here, you little thief…"

The raccoon remained where he was and Miroku advanced a little closer. Buddha help him if he ended up having to wrestle the raccoon for Sango's engagement ring.

Much to his surprise, the raccoon dropped the ring and waddled away as fast as his short legs could carry him. Miroku let out a sign of relief before he realized that another presence was closing in on him quickly. His whole body went numb as it drew closer, as if the life were being sucked from his limbs to leave him vulnerable. He remained crouched on the ground, like a deer frozen for camouflage. There was little camouflage his blue dress shirt and his jeans could offer in the middle of a forest.

The illithid came within view. Miroku's lips pulled back, disgusted. Even though he knew what it looked like, nothing quite prepared him for seeing it again. The shape was humanoid, the fingers long and slightly webbed, the skin purple and grey-tinged and shriveled, like an amphibian's out of water. It was the head which was most disturbing. In the shape, eyes, and the fibrous projection that made up the mouth it very much resembled a squid.

Miroku, upon finding out he was going to be used as bait, had made the mistake of looking up how the creatures fed. The illithid was an illegal demon. It had been trapped in another plane of existence for the past tens of thousands of years because it was a creature which could only live on humans. It fed on them by wrapping the fibrous projections—they were technically, he supposed, like the mandibles of the creature—around the heads of the human. Buried underneath them was a sharp beak, much like a squid's. This was used to make a sharp hole in the cranium. The creature was an incredibly picky and clean eater. The tentacles covering the beak were dexterous, capable of peeling back the skin of the head, breaking off the cap of the skull in manageable fragments until the hole was adequately large enough to allow the tentacles to reach inside and remove portions of the brain in small, bite-size pieces the tentacles then passed to the beak.

He wasn't sure which was the most disturbing: the way the author of the article described it (using such phrases as "peeling the skull like an orange"), or what happened to the victim. They were held down against the body of the demon from the arms of the demon. Though slender and strange, the arms and hands of the demon were amazingly strong. The process kept them alive; it didn't kill them automatically. The illithid wasn't a humane killer, breaking the neck first the way a lion would. No, it kept them alive.

Inside the tentacles were specially designed suckers—it was a misnomer that all suckers on aquatic animals were the same. They were not the plastic-window adherents little kids imagined them to be. They were specially designed mechanisms on their own. Giant squids had ones that were more like weapons. Each sucker had a claw which held an animal in place the way a fingernail helped grip.

The illithid's were designed to absorb auras, and everything attached to them: emotions, energy… Miroku had the largest aura in their group. The aura was linked to psychic energy, though no one understood how. The most prominent theory was that psychics' auras tended to be larger because they were more attuned to what was going on in their own mind to control their powers, and because they used more mental energies. Regardless, the slow absorption of their auras meant that people felt fear and excruciating pain… and it slowly ebbed away. The pain and the fear—all emotions—left them until only a dull, void husk was left behind.

Some people had been known to be live through the attack. The only drive left was hunger, one of the most basic instincts. It was even more basic than the sexual drive. The humans had become the zombies popularized in movies. They walked the earth heedless of their energies or their dying bodies, searching for beings with large auras to refill their own. The only benefit was that their insatiable hunger never lasted very long. These failed attacks—for the brain was still intact—meant the victim continued to bleed out until it died. It usually didn't take that long to die.

Failed vampire attacks which were the most horrendous mutations, but that wasn't what Miroku was thinking about. He was thinking about the illithid, and what it would do to him if it caught him.

Miroku reached into the shoulder strap he wore. He always wore it. He held the gun ready, and the creature slowly advanced on him. Guns had always been one of mankind's greatest inventions. They had always thought that it was all-powerful. A single bullet could kill a man. Then they had needed to build Kevlar vests to protect cops from guns. Miroku wore one of those at all times too. So bad guys had built faster, stronger guns to pierce the vests. The illithid hadn't needed to evolve such protections, and Miroku knew that. At least he would let the others know where he was.

The gun went off. Miroku knew he would get in trouble for it, but he didn't care. They were supposed to deal with quietly. People were on the camp sight, and gunshots would only draw attention. The last thing they needed was to have humans find out that a war was going on under their noses.

Sango's voice over the headset was warped. She was changing. "I'm coming, Miroku."

"On our way, Miroku," Ranma verified.

The thought that they were on their way offered little comfort. Completely human, despite his psychic powers, Miroku found it alarming that a bullet, one of the strongest defenses man had created, could do nothing against the creature. Miroku knew he had struck. He was an excellent shot. In fact, he rarely missed. It was simply that bullets had been designed against animals from their plane of existence. The illithid's skin was like nothing on earth. The bullet connected with a strange kind of slurping noise, and it disappeared. The robe the illithid wore sported a bullet-sized hole in the chest, and the skin was indented where the bullet had struck, but the creature wasn't wounded. The grey, wrinkled skin was to elastic too be broken by a bullet.

His eyes glanced down. The box was laying on the ground. He snatched it up, clutching it tightly in his free hand. Miroku scrambled to his feet, heedless of the leaves clinging to his dark hair. His grey eyes were bright in the forest as he began backing up.

The only universal thing that did damage to other demons was another demon. That was why Sango was so vital in their group. She was the capable of inflicting the most damage against demons. Other than that, each group had their own weakness: shapeshifters like Sango were weak against silver, vampires against wood and flame…

Illithids were weak against flame, too! Of course!

Miroku looked around and spotted exactly what he had been looking for. He picked up a large, dry branch covered in leaves. If his plan got out of control he was going to be in a pile of shit at the Bureau, but hey! At least he wouldn't be dead!

He dropped the gun, standing over it so he wouldn't lose the weapon. He dug around in his other back pocket. That one contained a small lighter. He always had a lighter on him, ever since he'd started dating Sango. The things came in handy.

He swore that the illithid was laughing as it seemed to glide towards him. There was, much like the raccoon, a human awareness in those black eyes. Unlike the raccoon's, these eyes were cold and cruel. Miroku held the lighter under the branch and grinned at the demon. He flicked the lighter and a small spout of flame appeared. The reflection of the flame glittered in the illithid's large, watery eyes, and for a moment, it stopped. When it started moving again, it rushed at Miroku, hissing as it full-out attacked.

Shoving his hand closer to the branch, he lit it on fire. He cursed as it all but erupted into flame, singing his hand and scorching the wrist of his shirt. Gripping the make-shift hilt, he shoved the ring box away to hold his weapon like a flaming sword. The illithid stopped rushing, and Miroku went on the offensive. It _was_ a sword, as far as he was concerned, and he attacked as such.

Sweat dripped down his nose from the branch of flame he wielded. Miroku hated fire. The dampness of skin wasn't just the result of the heat, but his fear as well. He hated the roaring and the crackling of the fire, the smell of it, and the heat. His hands shook, but he was moving too fast for the illithid to see the signs of fear.

He could hear his friends coming. Sango's arrival was predominantly silent, until a roar broke out. The illithid jumped in surprise, as did Miroku. He could feel the illithid's surprise as a tiger jumped out of the forest, but Miroku felt only relief. That was swiftly followed by an intense wave of adoration and respect. He loved Tora Sango, and even as a tiger she was still beautiful. Long, lithe, and perfectly furred from her whiskers to the tip of her tail, she was a powerfully built creature meant for both fighting and grace.

At once Sango was on the creature, biting and scratching. The illithid was an ambusher, and didn't have much in the way of defense, minus its strength and agility. They weaved and ducked around each other, a blur of shimmering stripped orange and invisible black. At one point Sango had her jaws around his neck, until she roared with pain and shook him loose.

"What happened?" Miroku asked, feeling strangely helpless as the two large creatures fought.

_The bastard bit me!_ Miroku couldn't see any blood on Sango until he understood. He had tried absorbing Sango's aura with his tentacles.

"Be careful, Sango!" he called out. "If he manages to wrestle you down, he'll devour you. It won't matter if you're a strong psychic or not now that you've made yourself a threat!" Sango's response to indicate she understood was simply to wave her ears in his direction.

Akane showed up next. She jumped the illithid from behind. When Ranma appeared, Sango slowly began changing back into a human being. Ranma only dared approach after Sango lost her ears and her tail. Even though Ranma knew the tiger was Sango, he was still scared of the shape.

With Ranma helping, the three of them managed to wrestle down the illithid and handcuff him. Miroku felt helpless as he stood by, holding the burning branch. When the fight was over, Sango took it for him and willed the flames into nothingness. She smiled at him, but he was too tired to really care.

He'd bring out the engagement ring tomorrow.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. The Graduate

Chapter Two: The Graduate

Miroku felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice. The world lay far below him, but it was foreign and unexplored. The world he knew lay crumbling under his feet.

Graduation Day.

It's not like he had to speak or anything, but his hands were a little clammy at the idea of receiving his diploma. He had been too busy the past few years to think of what he was going to do after graduating. He knew that he would continue working at the IBSP, but now he had debts to pay off. How was he to pay them off and live on the IBSP salary? Where could he find a job that put both his diploma to work and gave him the flexible hours to work with the Bureau?

He didn't know and it scared him. He supposed that, at 26, he was old enough to go off and get his own place. Like he could afford that. There was safety in numbers, anyway. He lived with Fuu and Ferio, and most of the time Ranma stayed with them. He had his own room there. Every once in a while his best friend would be required to go home and make a compulsory check-in with his folks. His dad, Miroku thought, always seemed a little happy that he didn't have to look after Ranma. His mother, Miroku always had known, was sad that she had lost her son to another family,but proud of him for his accomplishment.

She knew, as well as Ranma and Miroku did, that it was because of Miroku's influence Ranma had been able to pull up his marks and graduate university the year before. Miroku was even prouder when his friend managed to get himself a job at a dojo conducting private lessons. There, he was able to make his own hours, and the pay was enough so that Ranma had started paying rent. Fuu and Ferio had refused at first, as politely and eloquently as they could, but when they had seen how serious Ranma was about paying them for his lodging, the three of them had reached an agreement.

Miroku knew that he wouldn't be able to get a job like that. He sighed as he tried to listen to the Dean speaking proudly, as if she had known the students proudly all her life. There was also Sango to think about. She would graduate the year following him. What would she want to do with her degree in science? He knew she had always wanted to work in the IBSP with Urahara, helping to design gadgets and playing with experiments, but now that they were together… did she still want to do that?

His own degree was a major in history, with a minor in religion and language arts. Miroku had worked his ass off to get it, and he was thrilled with the knowledge that he had access to in his mind. The sheer knowledge he had acquired had been worth it… but what could he do with it? He had never really thought about it going into the subject. All he knew was that there was a calling for him in those fields. Every fiber in his body had screamed at him to pick up a history textbook, to pour over some obscure document…

The commencement music started. It wouldn't be long now. When people with the surname 'D' started going up, Miroku went with them. Walking up to the Dean, shaking her hand, and being congratulated all seemed to go by so fast that in the end he didn't have a chance to be frightened of it. As he stood there, shaking hands, he glanced out across the sea people searching for a familiar face.

He knew that Sango wasn't there. He had known she wouldn't show up. Her own university was holding exams that day, so Sango was no doubt poured over some fetal pig she had to dissect and label. Still, a small part of him wished that she had shown up. He always looked forward to seeing her face.

Miroku could pick out Fuu and Ferio's faces in the crowd, smiling proudly and clapping for him. Ranma was the most visible. He was the only adult in the crowd not old enough to be a parent. He also slouched in his seat, bored, but when he saw Miroku he sat up the slightest little bit taller. Miroku couldn't help but grin at his friend. Much to his surprise, sitting next to Ranma was Sango's uncle, Kakashi.

Like Miroku, Sango's parents had both died when she was very young. Her father had been a member at the Indian branch if the IBSP. Her mother had worked at the Japanese one. Kakashi always described that when his sister meant Sorata, it was obvious they had a connection. Arashi had stayed in India and married Sorata. They had both died shortly after Sango turned four. She was sent to Japan to live with her closest living relative, Kakashi.

As Miroku looked up at Kakashi he saw a light bulb go off, and the four of them laughed at the picture Kakashi had gotten on his digital camera. Miroku smiled at them, mentally sighing. So, Sango had asked Kakashi to come to get pictures? He would get them….

On second thought, it probably wouldn't impress the woman he wanted to marry by mooning her uncle.

* * *

"I'm so proud of you!" Fuu squeaked as she hugged Miroku. Embraced in a bear hug, Miroku really had no choice but to hold her back. Over her shoulder he could see Ferio with the rakish grin he wore when he was really happy. "Our Miroku is a certified student now!"

"You looked really commanding up there, Miroku," Ferio agreed. He touched his wife's shoulder, slowly peeling Fuu from him. "You really have a stage prescence. When you went up to get your diploma, the lady in front of us began commenting on how cute you looked."

Much to everyone's surprise, a slow blush crept up his face. Fuu had to hide a small snicker behind her slender hand, and Ferio continued smiling. Ranma was trying very hard to keep from laughing and managing to succeed, if barely. Kakashi, however, was the only one who looked proud at Miroku's uncharacteristic display of bashfulness.

"Don't worry. I won't tell Sango that another girl was checking you out," he promised. Miroku sighed with relief, watching Kakashi fiddle with the digital camera. He held it out for Miroku to see, and he watched the younger man laugh.

"I look like a deer in head lights." He passed the camera back to Kakashi and became lost in thought along the way. Both of them held the camera, staring off in space. He watched the youthful summer wind play with Kakashi's silvered hair and knew his own black hair was moving much the same way. It made him feel a small, tender connection to the commanding man. Kakashi didn't need a stage to have a presence. Miroku wondered if one day he might be the same way. "May I talk to you alone, sir?"

Kakashi arched an eyebrow, curious. Miroku released the camera so that he could tuck it into his jacket pocket again. Kakashi glanced up at Miroku's foster parents, silently asking if they knew what was going on. Both of them looked just as confused as he did.

"All right, Miroku."

Miroku smiled. "Great. We can walk and get some privacy. Guys," he said, turning back to the others, "there's a booth set up with food off towards the cafeteria."

Both men watched the others walk away. Miroku felt a strange separation from the scenario as he watched Ranma laugh out loud with his foster parents. Was that what he looked like when he smiled or laughed? Did his eyes crinkle in the same way? Were there already tender laugh lines in the corners of his mouth? Ranma was looking so old already; both of them had matured too much, too fast. Only when Ranma relaxed and became comfortable did the young man in him come out.

Did Miroku's inner self reveal itself when Sango was around?

Kakashi arched an eyebrow, staring down at Miroku. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Miroku snapped to attention, as if they were discussing work. He paused, wishing that his robes had pockets. As they didn't, he clasped his hands behind his back. "Do you mind if we walk and talk?"

"Not in the slightest." Kakashi began wandering, and Miroku followed after him. The tall man's strides were slow, and his lean body made his walk appear almost lazy. In comparison, Miroku's steps were quick and alert. He stared up at the sky, feeling the warmth of the bright sun on his face.

It was a beautiful day. The early summer air was warm, but it maintained a crisp springiness to it which kept the humidity away. There were few clouds in the sky, but those that were there were fluffy and white, flawless in color and formation. Birdsongs filled the air, and the colors all seemed to brighten at their songs. Miroku could feel the warmth of the sun fill him, soaking into his body and filing him with confidence.

"I wanted to ask your advice, sir."

"Oh?"

He nodded. "For a long time now I've been thinking about Sango, sir." He paused, reflecting in the growing sunlight to again refresh his courage. "I'm thinking about asking her to marry me."

Kakashi was excellent at masking his surprise. He had years of experience at avoiding and lying. No flicker of surprise or disapproval flickered on his face—Miroku would have seen it from the corner of his eye. Instead, the white haired man missed a step. For half a second, his gait had been out of sync. To the empath, Kakashi might well have been broadcasting his surprise. Kakashi's voice was dry and detached as he answered, giving leave for Miroku to continue. "I see… and what do I have to do with this?"

"You're her legal guardian, sir. I'm aware that doesn't give you permission indeciding for her who she marries, or even _liking_ who she marries for that matter, but it would mean a lot to me, sir, if you'd give me your approval in asking for Sango's hand. I don't want to be intrusive. I don't want you to feel like I'm taking her away from her. I love Sango, sir. I just want your blessing that… that she'll accept my proposal."

"I see…" He repeated. Kakashi had picked up on the small waver in Miroku's voice. He hadn't asked Kakashi just for approval. It was about assurance, too. He was scared and wanted Kakashi's reassurance that he was doing the right thing, and that he wouldn't get rejected. Kakashi stared down at Miroku in silence as they walked. When he felt ready to speak again, he began directing them towards the sakura trees, where they could get out of the sun for a little bit and sit down to converse.

"You're right, of course. I don't have any say in who Sango marries. I will be honest with you, Miroku. I never thought that you and Sango would last two months as a couple, let alone two years. But… I was wrong. You two compliment each other nicely, you respect her, and you make her happy. You should see her face after you drop her off from a date sometimes… I feel like she's sixteen again. You've proven me wrong about a lot of things, but don't prove me wrong about giving you my blessing."

He continued before Miroku could interrupt. "Your nervousness does you credit, Miroku. If you'd walked up confidently and simply stated that you were going to marry my niece, I think I would have been put off by your egotism. There is a difference between self-assurance and excessive pride… and you seem to know where that line is. But I sense that there is something else that you want to ask me too." He watched as the color on Miroku's cheeks darkened subtly. "I can only presume this, too, is about Sango."

For a long moment Miroku was quiet, gathering his thoughts. Kakashi did not urge him to start, but allowed Miroku the time he needed. Had Miroku not been so nervous, he might have been able to perceive the fondness with which Kakashi regarded him. Miroku was a man, Kakashi had concluded long ago, of surprising contrasts, and it was affected by the world around him which aspect he chose to show. He could be both proud and nervous, commanding or nurturing, and either rough and dominant or sensitive and pliable, all depending on the situation. Miroku was androgynous in his behavior, capable of displaying both traditionally masculine or feminine traits. After watching his Sango and Mirokuinteracted, Kakashi approved of Miroku's character because Sango was much the same way. When one was experiencing one trait, the other assumed without hesitation, something to encourage or deter the other's emotion.

He had earned Kakashi's respect; that was why Kakashi had agreed and why the older man was now giving Miroku the berth and time he needed to speak his mind.

"I've been carrying around this ring for about a month now. I keep trying to ask Sango, sir, but I'm… scared. I know I shouldn't admit something like that, of being scared…"

Kakashi shook his head. He sat down under the sakura tree, leaning his head against the rough bark. "It's all right to be scared. Like I said: your nervousness does you credit."

"Yes, sir." Slowly, Miroku sat down next to him. "I'm scared of her rejecting me, and I'm scared I'm going to ask her the wrong way. I don't know how to begin. How do I ask Sango to marry me?"

"This is other piece of advice you needed from me?" Miroku nodded. Kakashi braced his head against the sakura tree with his hands, watching the sky above him. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he thought about the question. "It's not exactly like I think often about asking my niece to marry my, kid."

"I wasn't suggesting you did, sir."

Kakashi glanced over at Miroku to see the younger man grinning broadly. He had recognized that Kakashi as trying to tease Miroku, and his answer had been impertinent, not serious. A small smile began to tug at Kakashi's lips. A sense of humor, too. That was rare to find. Not a sense of fun or laughter. That was fairly common. Miroku had a sense of humor. He could give jokes as well as he could take. Rather impressed by how well Miroku was handling himself, Kakashi gave the answer due thought. After a moment, he began voicing his thoughts.

"The problem with Sango," he began, "is that there are so many different aspects of her to appeal to andit's hard to know which one is proper. Do you ask her in the traditionally Japanese way? Do you ask her in the traditional Indian way? Do you ask her in a human way? Do you ask her in a demon way? Is there a traditional way to ask half-demons to marry you? I don't know."

Miroku nodded, agreeing. "Yeah. That's kind of what I was hoping you could help me with. I guess she's never spoken to you about how she would fantasize getting asked. I think if I were going to do anything, I'd like to ask her the way she always imagined it happening, but I don't know."

"You tried talking to Akane?"

"No," he replied. "I'm afraid that if I do, Sango will pick up from Akane's attitude that something's happening."

Kakashi's eyes half-closed. "Hm… good point." With his eyes half closed, and Miroku with his face upturned to the sun as if he were drinking it in, Kakashi's thoughts were kept hidden. The turmoil beneath his silent, sculpted face was buried deep. Wounds he had thought were long closed began to weep again, painfully. Letting out such a forlorn sigh that he thought his heart would break, he spoke in cautious, treading, slow words. "I was going to be married once, you know."

Miroku's face never turned from the brilliant sun. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yes, I was. I was very much in love. Unfortunately, they died before we could wed."

"That's how you got that eye, isn't it?" Miroku asked. The eye in question was covered up with a contact lens to hide its real color and design. The younger man shivered as that eye turned his way and Miroku felt as if something had pierced him deep within, seeing something it should not have been able to see. He quickly turned back to the warmth and shelter of the honey-scented sunlight.

"It is how I got the eye. My own was taken in the accident that killed my partner in the Bureau. When my fiancée died, I received one of their eyes to give me back my sight. If they hadn't been half-demon, I doubt that it would have worked, but the healing factor is carried in the DNA, or so we assume, and so the eye began healing itself." He paused, and rubbed at the eye, remembering the experience all-too well. "It was a rather painful situation and one I wouldn't recommend anyone else going through.

"Miroku… have you ever noticed that all of the senior members of the IBSP are married?" The young man looked at him quizzically and Kakashi began counting off his fingers. "Fuu and Ferio. Serena and Darien. Abarai Renji and his wife. Rukia and Ichigo. The only three not married are myself, Sesshoumaru, and Urahara. The latter two are so old they have those positions until the world crumbles into dust, I suppose. But as for myself, I was engaged. My partner died, but my job was too valuable a connection to letpass. I was allowed to become a senior agent because I was invaluable, and…."

He stopped. Miroku was staring at him, looking rather confused. Kakashi could still the lingering hope on his face, hidden under the confusion in his blue-grey eyes, that Kakashi could help him. Instead he had been about to make everything worse. Did Kakashi even have permission to tell Miroku something like that?... Miroku was smart. Kakashi decided to be honest, for as long as he could suffer to be.

"They spend a long time, Miroku, pairing people up. It's not like just because one person has a skill for fighting and the other for subtlety we throw them together. The IBSP isn't as concerned with that. They want partnerships that complement each other. Take you and Ranma. You two get along well together, you encourage and support each other, you have some of the same interests, and your strengths make up for his weaknesses and vice versa. Generally speaking, to avoid pre-pubescent infatuations as partners start training as early as eight years of age, most of the teams are the same gender. That is how the IBSP operates, everywhere. But all of the senior couples are generally heterosexual, because they're married couples.

"Sometimes… sometimes Ranma, the IBSP does such a good job putting together teams that when two junior teams are put together, they… they end up falling in love," he said. Plain and simple. Miroku had turned away from the sun and was staring at him now, listening intently. "Eventually most teams pair up. A lot of the time these partnerships are again directed together by senior members of the IBSP. In the case of you four—yourself, Sango, Akane, and Ranma—it was purely by chance and it worked out so beautifully no one could have planned it better. Akane and Ranma struck it off right away, earning their respects with their mutual fighting abilities. You and Sango were a little rougher in the start, but in the end, she decided she wanted to get to know you more."

Kakashi could bring himself to say no more on the subject he was trying to explain. He hated himself, and he didn't know if it was because he was allowing Miroku to go blindly about his dream, or if he hated himself for knowing he was going to have to offer Miroku a choice that one should never have to make. Let him, he decided, keep his hope for now. It was graduation day, after all. It was all about hope, and Miroku had looked so hopeful as he bathed in the golden sunlight. Let him keep that hope.

"When I asked him to marry me, I came out and said it. Marry me. That was it. My personal suggestion is to ask Sango like that. Don't have romance leading up to it. Don't give her a chance to figure out what's going on. It would make her nervous and it might force her to run away… and if she runs, it will take a long time to get her settled down again to ask her for a second time. Just come out and say it. Marry me. Marry me? But… but do it at a time when Sango will never be able to forget it. Make the occasion and the surrounding, the timing special. Don't make the words special, because she'll forget those. In the end it will be the sight of a sunset, the smell of a particular food or place, or a song that will make her remember."

He looked over at Miroku. The young man, he noted, had registered everything he had said and had taken it to heart, but he still looked apprehensive. Kakashi gave him a benign smile, knowing that Miroku was curious, but fearing being intrusive. "Go ahead."

"Um… well… I'm sorry, sir. I just… I didn't really realize you were a…"

Kakashi chuckled and the eloquent Miroku choked on his words with nervousness. "I'm not."

"But… you said 'he'…."

"Yes."

Miroku was staring at him, the apprehension dismissed in a wave of astounding confusion. His eyebrows furrowed and he stared at Kakashi in a way that made him smile harder. He never thought he would have enjoyed telling somebody about his fiancée, but Miroku was proving him wrong.

Kakashi decided it would be best to explain and put the poor boy out of curiosity. "You know who Sorata-san is by now, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. He's Sango's father."

"Yes. His partner, when Sorata-san was alive and working at the Indian branch the Bureau, was his brother. When my sister Arashi and I went over to help them, Arashi found herself falling for Sorata-san. It left his brother and I alone for long periods of time. We began to challenge each other to brawls, chess matches, drinking competition… all matter of friendly rivalry. We barely understood each other. Arashi was our interpreter… but we understood competition. Slowly, I guess around the time Sango was two and a half, I realize that somewhere amidst shots of tequila and losing at fist fights _and_ at chess because of that bastard's natural cheating ability," he gestured to the eye in between the scar that ran from forehead to cheek, "that I loved him. I missed him. And right when I was realizing that, he showed up. I can still recall it clearly. I was set to fly to India immediately and refuse to leave, and I had been the middle of packing my bags when the doorbell rang… and there he was, right when I needed him.

"I had always liked girls before that, on the rare occasion when Arashi wouldn't slap me silly for ogling one. Sango gets that from her mother," he said with a tender smile. "But he was different. Some part of me called out to him, and him to me. I still like girls, even at the time when I was missing physical things about him: his smile, or the way we fought so well together, or how quiet he was when he moved, like a shadow. I wasn't attracted to his body, but to the things his body revealed about him. In was something that transcended sexual love.

"Soulmates. It's a clichéd, over used term, but it's the truth. We were soulmates. I didn't care what he looked like, or what sex he was. I loved _him_. In the end, I realized I didn't miss the way he fought, or how he moved, or how he laughed. I just missed him. I missed his presence. I missed the way he made me feel. I felt uneasy whenever he wasn't around. And… and call me crazy, but I think that you understand that."

Miroku, to his surprise, looked almost guilty. He very slowly began to nod, wetting his lips. "Yeah, I do. Back when I was getting those visions, I could tell whenever Sango was around. I could pick out Fuu too, and it made me feel better because… because I was always so comforting to have her around. It seemed natural to relax. I mean, I know that she was never really like my mom. I was too old to need a mom when I was adopted by Fuu and Ferio. But I still needed someone to make me feel…"

"Safe? Comforted?" Kakashi asked.

Miroku shook his head. "No. Ferio was the fighter. He could make the home feel safe and comforting as well, because he was always looking out for us. No, I needed someone to make the place feel like home, and that's what Fuu did. I always remember her being in the kitchen when I came home, with fresh cookies ready. And even though we wouldn't speak—just sit there and do work at the kitchen table and eat her cookies—it still made everything feel at home. When I was sick, Fuu's presence made me feel like I was at home. And if she was there, then I knew Fuu wasn't far away. Fuu always stood between Ferio and I, where she was the safest, and where I was the most emotionally secured.

"But Sango was different. At the time, when I relaxed around her I thought it was just relief because it meant she was safe. I was convinced those last visions were about her, that she was going to die… And if she was there, then I didn't have a reason to worry. And back then, when my powers were stronger, I would wrap myself in her aura and her mind. I would never try and read her thoughts. Even with those medications, I wasn't strong enough to be able to read minds like Fuu. But I could still feel her mind, and I would wrap myself in her emotions and just… float. Even now, I find myself so attuned to her emotions that I can feel her in my sleep, or from far away… are you… are you suggesting that Sango and I are soulmates?"

Kakashi shrugged. "I'm just talking; I'm not suggesting anything. Can I ask _you_ something?"

This time Miroku shrugged. "It seems only fair as you've been so honest with me."

"What's the shortest time that you've ever waited to bed a girl after going out on a date with her? Not the average now, the shortest. And keep in mind that I can tell when you're lying," he added with a grin that made Miroku feel he was looking at himself.

He didn't know if the last part was true or not. Could Kakashi see lies? Miroku decided not to try and lie. Besides, he hadn't been planning to in the first place. Kakashi had been honest with him and Miroku felt that he needed to give Kakashi the same honesty in return. "I don't know how long… but, well, there have been a few dates where we've just…you know, ended it with sex."

"Mm-hm. And have you and Sango had sex yet?"

"Of course not!"

There was that grin again. Kakashi's eyes were dancing with silent laughter. "So why the sudden change? No, no. Don't answer me. Answer yourself. But back to your original statement. If you really want to know how to ask Sango, I suggested talking to Urahara. I know that would hardly be the most comfortable thing for you, as you and he were rivals for Sango, but he would have more opinions on the subject than I. Urahara has loved Sango almost as long as she's loved him. It wouldn't surprise me if he had given some consideration into proposing to her before. Even if that isn't the case, he's a demon. He may know of the proper way of asking a demon to wed, or something."

Kakashi didn't look up, but kept staring down at Miroku. "There's a teacher heading this way. Try your best to cheer up, kid. People are going to think I just broke up with you."

A small smile began to reappear on Miroku's nervous face. He looked up. It wasn't just a professor—it was the Dean. Miroku quickly jumped up, trying to be respectful, dusting off his graduation gown of soil, leaves, and sakura blossoms.

"Please, please. Don't trouble yourself. It's your last day as a student, Miroku-san. You should be enjoying it. I hate to break up this conversation, but I have urgent and important questions to ask our latest graduate. If you wouldn't mind, sir," she added, nodding to Kakashi, "may I borrow him for a bit? I promise I will return him within the hour."

Kakashi stood up himself, and smiled. "Of course you may. I feel like going and checking out the food table before Ranma empties it. I'll try to save you something too, Miroku. Ja ne!"

The Dean smiled pleasantly after the man. "He seems charming. Relative of yours, Miroku-san?"

He shrugged. "It's my girlfriend's uncle."

The woman watched Miroku, and then slowly smiled. "I see… I hope then, that he will be a relative soon. I'm afraid that my bones do not run as smoothly as they once did. Would you mind if we remained here for our discussion?" Miroku nodded and the older woman sat down, wincing slightly. Miroku could hear her knees grinding against each other and winced. "Arthritis… in my youth, I was a soccer player. You would never have guessed it now though, would you? I will be blunt with you Miroku-san…. Rezo's sudden and premature departure has left many of his courses unattended. Lina-san is, of course, taking over many of the upper year courses Rezo normally would have held, but it leaves the first-year introductory courses without a teacher. Your university is in a bit of a bind for next year."

"I suppose you are, sir"

The Dean glanced at him with a small smile. "Did you know that you had the highest marks in you class, Miroku?"

His blue-grey eyes widened in surprise. "No… No, I didn't."

"Rezo spoke about you often and highly. That is why I am going to make you an offer. Normally something like this would have been out of the question, but… we need help, Miroku-san. There are three introductory courses Rezo normally would have taught. You not only excelled in those classes and the ones following it, but last year he was thinking of making you his TA. I don't know why he didn't. He simply said that you two had a falling out, and it's frankly none of my business. But… he still recommended you for the position, and he's not without his strong points. You have a natural charisma, intelligent and wit, you'rea good listener, wonderful academic skills, a strong speaking voice…

"We would like you to come in and teach those classes, Miroku. You would get paid less than a normal professor would, as you technically lack the qualifications. It would only be those three classes, but it would enable you to start paying of your school debts. And, providing you are an adequate professor, say, if you happened to start acquiring the necessary documents and degrees to continue teaching, then there's no reason to think it couldn't turn into a full workload by the time you acquire your masters or your doctorate."

Miroku was staring at the Dean. "You want me to teach?"

The Dean nodded. "You don't have to answer right away…"

"Yes!" he cried, jumping up. "I'd be an idiot not to accept the position!"

The Dean smiled and stood up. Miroku helped her settle back on her feet, and the old woman's smile was a little tired. "I will go and break the news to the rest of the faculty, then. Enjoy your summer. I will require you to come and see me once a week over the summer, in order to make sure that you're creating an agreeable course outline and conducting research. I won't let you flounder about, Miroku-san, worry not. Rezo also left his old documents for you, so that you can go over them and use them as you see fit. You can build upon his research and lectures. Shall we schedule our first meeting for… next Friday? That gives you a week to enjoy your summer vacation before it disappears into dusty old books and libraries."

"That sounds wonderful."

The old woman smiled again and left. As he turned back to run to the food table and tell his family the good news, Miroku caught sight of a stately man with dark hair standing far off, in the shelter of a university archway. Miroku recognized the man. Rezo.

Rezo was smiling. As Miroku watched, he slowly put up his hand and waved goodbye. Or maybe he was waving hello.

Slowly, Miroku put up his own hand and waved back. Slowly, he realized that he was smiling back at Rezo. Although he was uncertain what Rezo meant, Miroku knew what he meant. If it hadn't been for Rezo's teaching and manipulation of the faculty, Miroku wouldn't have gotten the job offer. Miroku was saying thank you.

Respect flowed between them, briefly covering up the hostility and the tension which had existed since Rezo had tried to kill Sango and Miroku. Before the respect had the chance to break, Rezo turned and walked away. Miroku, despite being his pupil and now a budding scholar, was still underneath it all a cop. Rezo took his leave before Miroku could draw attention to his presence and take him in for questioning, though no physical evidence remained for putting the older man behind bars permanently.

Rezo had it wrong, though. Miroku was simply Miroku. He had no intention of drawing attention to Rezo's presence. He would some other day, but not on graduation day.

That day was all about the beginning of a new part of Miroku's life, and nothing else.


	4. The Mission

Chapter Three: The Mission

"Bye, Sango!"

"Have a nice summer, Sango!"

Sango smiled at two of her classmates. She had gotten used to seeing Piroku and Margo so much that it would seem odd not seeing them over the summertime… even if the two girls were a little annoying. They were good, hard working students, and they kept their noses clean from the drugs and the alcohol generally so common on campus, which Sango enjoyed. But they were also single and continually scoured the campus rating boys and hoping that they would find boyfriends for themselves. It wasn't that they were desperate or hopeless romantics… just lonely.

She understood that far too much.

Despite understanding them, Sango had never decided to volunteer the fact that she'd been dating someone for the past two years. She knew that if she told them they'd make a deal about it all. They'd corner her into telling them what he looked like, what kissing was like, what sex was like, how he held her, about their dates, if he put the moves on her… Sango didn't have the patience to deal with that. Miroku was her refuge from schoolwork, the house, and the war against Shabranigdo. She didn't want him to be dragged into her university life.

"Bye guys. I'll see you guys next year, o…"

"Sango! Heey! Sango!"

She froze. Miroku's voice stood out anywhere to her ears. She turned around to see him running towards them, waving and smiling. Judging from the face-splitting grin and the way he had so cheerfully called out 'heey', he was either in a naturally good mood or God hated her and he was there to simply annoy her for kicks.

It was too late to keep Piroku and Margo from seeing him. Pale-haired and taller Piroku was leaning around Sango. When she saw that the boy running towards them was cute she smiled, and it was a bit of a cruel smile. "Whose that calling your name, Sango?"

"He's cute!" added in Margo. She took in Miroku's build and his mussed-up hair and sighed. "Mm. Now I think I know why American men enjoy watching Baywatch. I could watch that man run all day long and never get tired of it."

Sango didn't have a chance to try and escape. As Miroku approached them, he threw an arm around Sango, breathing heavily. Her worry over him was temporarily covered up by her annoyance at the situation. She looked at him in surprise. "What… what are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, I was in this area of town, and I figured that you'd be done your examination…." He trailed off, pushing his dark hair out of his grey-blue eyes. Sango and Miroku both noted that Margo sighed, as if longing to touch his hair or rearrange it for him.

Looking at Miroku, Sango was almost painfully aware of how attractive he was. Lean and muscular, rather slim in build, his body was physically appealing. Dressed in jeans that made his legs look like they belonged on a Grecian statue, and his chest by comparison was subtly clothed in a white Oxford shirt. It hid the muscles she knew were there. Sango could feel their weight pressing into her shoulders as he hung to her for support. He presented himself as a lithe young man and the image was so convincing that when he smiled, roguishly, it was almost unbalancing. The rogue was inside him too, always coming out in some way. Most of the time it was his rebellious earring, accentuated the lazy and pirate-like grin he often sported. His smile could be many things, and so it was often used as a mask. His hair, however, could never be anything but disheveled after running, and completed the image of the clean-cut bad boy Miroku often prided himself on.

"Hello, ladies," he said warmly, acknowledging them both before turning back to Sango. "I was kind of hoping you'd let me treat you to dinner. After all, we're both done school now. It'll be like a celebration. I have lots to tell you."

"You have to say yes Sango!" Margo suddenly ordered. Normally perky and quiet, the sudden military-like construct of her voice took Sango by surprise, as did her aggressive body language as she pointed at Miroku. "If this boy wants to take you out, then I demand that you accept it and that you e-mail Piro-chan and I and tell us all about so that we may live vicariously through you!"

"Um…"

"If you don't want to say yes, I'll go," Piro-chan volunteered with such a sly smile Miroku felt very much like a platter. "I think he's cute."

"He's not just cute!" Margo answered. "The man is downright gorgeous. It should be a sin for a guy to have such long lashes!"

"Guys?" Sango tried to interrupt. She felt Miroku kiss her cheek to console her when the two girls ignored her. She sighed, patting the hand laying on her shoulder to let him know she was all right. She was kind of used to their arguments over boys, and the summer suddenly looked wonderful. She wouldn't have to listen to anymore fights over boys between the two girls.

Although the two of them hadn't heard Sango speak, Piroku saw the kiss. She pointed at them. "Sango got kissed by a _boy_!"

"Ah! I missed it! Do it again!" Miroku smiled and Sango sighed at Margo's plea. She looked up at them with puppy god eye. "Please! Please, with sugar on top! I need my fluff fixation!"

"Margo, we're not…"

"Okay."

Before Sango could stop him, Miroku tilted her back and gave her a good, solid kiss on her mouth. Both girls were shocked as Sango made a muffled sound of protest before letting out a deep sigh of pleasure and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, kissing him back.

They didn't come up for air.

Piroku stared at them, her eyes wide. "Wow… Hey! If they're willing to do that again, we should go and get a stop watch! What do you suppose the longest uninterrupted kiss is?"

Her idea was too much for them and the kiss broke into peals of laughter from between the two of them. Miroku, still doubled over with laughter, buried his face in Sango's neck as her hands pelted his shoulders for embarrassing her. But she was laughing, and her slaps were light. Eventually, when he had stopped laughing, Miroku stood up, setting Sango back down on her feet.

"Piroku, Margo, meet Miroku. He's my boyfriend."

As Piroku began ranting about Sango's treachery for not having told them about Miroku sooner, Margo quietly pulled on Sango's sleeve. "Does he have a brother?" she whispered hopefully into Sango's ear.

* * *

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell them," Sango admitted to Miroku as he escorted her to the parking lot about half an hour later. Miroku made a sound of interest and looked down at Sango in surprise, motioning that she should continue. "You mean you're not upset that I didn't tell them I had a boyfriend?" 

"Sango," he chuckled, "if I had to put up with all the questions they'd no doubt ask, I would keep me a secret too. I don't know how you're able to keep up with those two all school year. They're incredibly… active. Hyper active, really." Having reached his car he opened the passenger side door for her, making her blush.

"I just… When I told them and you were there it made me feel so guilty. If I were in your shoes, wouldn't you wonder if I hadn't said anything because I was somehow… ashamed of going out with you?"

Miroku shut the car door and walked around to the other side. He slid into the car seat and did up his seat before he answered. Taking her hand into his he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Never ashamed of me, Sango. Embarrassed at being with me, that's always a bit of a possibility. I know that I can get a bit out of hand sometimes, especially when I'm in a good mood, but I would never think that you were ashamed of me. It's like the idea of you cheating on me, Sango. I'm never worried about that because I know it's something you would never do. It's as simple as that."

He smiled at her. It was full of such love that Sango find herself smiling back.

* * *

When Sango saw the night Miroku had planned for them, she began to feel very underdressed. She, as she liked to be comfortable in her exams, was wearing a pair of navy lounge pants and a comfortable t-shirt. Even though Miroku was wearing jeans, Sango wished she was at least wearing something more flattering than lounge pants. 

He refused to tell her where they were going. When he pulled up to his house, Sango understood. He was trying to recreate their first date. It started off at Miroku's house. He cooked her supper, and she helped. As she peeled and cut the carrots, he asked her about her exams. She told him everything he could on the subject. When, in the heat of the story, she admitted that she hadn't done so well on the essay portion, she ended up smiling with pride as Miroku laughed. He had such sweet, rich laughter. Hearing it made her feel fuzzy all the way down to her toes. When she was the one who started the laughter, it made her want to rain kisses on the apples of cheeks, and the smiling curve of his devilish mouth.

"So you really finished your paper with the sentence: 'in conclusion, I conclude that…'?"

Sango laughed, nodding. Tears of laughter were buried in her eyelashes, and Miroku brushed them away for her. "I think I failed that part of my exam, but I was in such a hurry to finish, Miroku! I just wanted to get it over and done with!"

"I understand… and speaking of done, I think supper is done." He slid behind Sango, pressing his body against hers as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He began dancing with her, her back to his chest, even though there wasn't any music. Miroku voice was seductive, and it made Sango a little suspicious, but when his breath tickled her ear as he whispered she surrendered herself to the movements of his body and danced with him. "Would you mind, my dear Sango, setting the table? I have another little surprise for our dinner, but I'm afraid I can't recall where I put it."

There was something about the way he held and danced with her when he said that which made Sango worried. She pulled away from him and studied his face, wondering if it was something perverted. "Okay," she decided. "I'll set the table. But I swear that if you show up with a porn video or something…"

"Nothing of the sort, Sango." He kissed her and hurried off. Miroku skidded to a stop at the exit to the kitchen. "At least… nothing of the sort _yet_, Sango."

"Oh you! Just go and get it already!"

She was just adding the kitchen utensils when he came back in the kitchen. Sango looked up to see that he was holding a bottle of white wine. Not sake. It was actual white wine. He grinned and showed her the date. The wine was still fairly young, having been made two years ago… in the same month when they had started dating. She looked up at him, blushing with surprise.

Miroku explained as he opened it. "I opted for white wine because they say that white wine goes best with fish. You, I figured, being a cat would like fish. I like fish. It seemed like the best choice. I kind of wanted to save this for something else… I was thinking something like our tenth anniversary. I thought it might be the kind of romantic thing you'd like, Sango. But… today is pretty special. You have one year of university left, and I graduated today. I'm my own man, Sango. There are no more papers or examinations to tie me down… at least for now."

He finished pouring the wine and set the glasses down on the table before he took his seat. He smiled across the small kitchenette table at Sango. "Please, begin. We've spent so much time talking about your exam that I think of I don't tell you what happened to me today, I think I might just burst."

Sango laughed, scooping some carrots to her plate. The food all smelled delicious and looked professionally done. "Sometimes you seem so effeminate in the way you speak, Miroku. It's like you're a gossiping teenage girl right now…" She smiled at him to show she was teasing him. He reached across the table and tweaked her nose.

"I might very well be, Sango. I'm on top of the world. Nothing can bring me down. Sango, I just underwent _commencement_. Everything is supposed to be new now! The world, for the first time in a long time for me, is full of this brilliant hope and transcendent joy that…" He paused and stared across the table at her. Sango thought his eyes looked deeper than normal. They were open, happy, and honest… _soulful. _That's what they were. "That I normally only feel when I'm with you, Sango. …I got a new job today."

"That's wonderful, Miroku!" she beamed. Under the table, Sango stretched her legs, letting them brush against Miroku's. He played footsies back with her, and Sango thought it was rather disgusting how cute they were together. "What is it?"

"Tora Sango, you are looking at my university's newest—and youngest—_and_," he added after a brief thought, "the most unaccredited professor."

One of her chopsticks slowly slipped from her fingers. "You…" she began with wide eyes, "you have a job at a university?" Miroku nodded proudly. Slowly, Sango could feel her mind registering the information, and she was ecstatic for him. "Miroku, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you! Congratulations! How did it happen? When did it happen? What will you be teaching?"

He told her the story animatedly. He added comedy and descriptions. Sango was amazed at his ability to tell the story. When he began talking about the dean, she could picture and smell the woman, as if she was standing there in the kitchen. When he was done, Sango had calmed down some, but she was still smiling and felt fuzzy from the pride and joy threading through every fiber of her being. Her meal remained mostly untouched still. When she had nearly choked on the wine at one point when Miroku had made her laugh, Sango had decided that it was safer to simply listen.

"I think I should like to kiss you."

She slipped from her seat and crossed to his side of the table. She slowly slid into his lap, resting her hands on her knees and leaning in. Miroku's heart thumped with excitement as her lips brushed against his. When Sango took the initiative and kissed him—slowly, always slowly when she did it—it always shocked him. This lithe, beautiful creature, sensitive and caring and strong at the same time, was exposing herself to him, kissing him… and he loved it.

Now. Now was when he should ask her.

Miroku wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her in his lap as she pulled away, smiling fondly. "Sango… I've been doing a lot of soul-searching lately." He faltered over his words as Sango's eyes widened and he saw a flicker of fear in them. Was she afraid that he was going to break up with her? Did she know what was coming and she was afraid of his proposal? Kakashi was right! Miroku should have said it plain and simple.

"Go on," she urged. Miroku's silence was unnerving to her. She didn't like suspense; not with Miroku. Miroku meant everything to her. If it turned out the new job would mean that he needed to move away from her, to leave her… how could she cope without him? Who would hold her when she was scared? How could she protect him if he was far away from her? How could she remain faithful? How could he?

He could hear the worry in her voice. She _was_ worried, but whether it was over breaking up or marriage he didn't know.

"Commencement is a time of new beginnings, of marked improvements, and…." He stopped and nearly jumped when his crotch vibrated.

Sango felt it too. She stared down at his crotch and then laughed loudly, figuring it out. She touched her heart, as if making sure it wasn't thumping out of her chest. "Your cell phone scared the crap out of me, Miroku! For a second I thought that you were wearing some kind of vibrator in there to try and seduce me." She winked at him teasingly, and then jumped as her own cell phone went off. Miroku smiled at that.

They both dug into their pockets and groaned when they saw the number. Sesshoumaru-sama. It was never a good thing if the head was calling them. Miroku looked at Sango. "Let me deal with it, please." She acquiesced and he answered the phone. There was a tense silence on their line as Sesshoumaru talked. "Sir, Sango and I just finished cooking dinner. Is there anyway we could show up half an hour… no? Please… Yes, sir. No sir, no disrespect sir. Yes sir…." He hung up dejectedly.

Sango stared at him. "Well?"

Slowly, he looked up at her, and she saw he was worried. When she was alone with him, his thoughts were worn on his sleeve, rather than masked behind flirtations and witticisms. "He's taking us off the Shabranigdo case."

* * *

Tora Sango was in a fury. Miroku sat across from her at the meeting table, studying her. Her face seemed neutral. Her mouth was in a thin line, and her cheeks were slightly flushed. She seemed out of place in the Bureau's meeting room, as she was not dressed in her typical work clothes. She sat straight in her chair, with perfect posture, but Miroku could feel and see that she was furious. He could see it from her eyes. She was staring a lot, deep in thought, and her eyes were brilliant. They weren't quite gold, not yet, but when she moved, they flashed like the eyes of a cat. 

He could feel her anger too. It was like a wall of heat surrounded Sango. Miroku didn't mind, and on occasion when Sango was mad in the past he would reassure himself with that heat. It was a sign of her passion, of her vitality, and he cherished it. At this particular time, the wall was still. When Sango was madder, it often moved, writhing, like a candle flame or a snake.

Akane could pick up on her friend's anger too. She cautiously covered one of Sango's hands with her own. "Are you okay?"

"He has no right to do this!" she hissed. Her eyes flashed. "Sesshoumaru-sama's just being a control freak. This is our case, our job, Akane! We had it first, and then Miroku and Ranma joined in, and it's all our case now! We're the best at it. We're the best at finding his followers and taking them in. The four of us have caught almost as many as some of the senior agents, and we only work half the time of some of them because of school! We've worked out fingers to the bone for this case, and he has no right to take this from us! We've bled for the cause; some of us have almost died on more than one occasion to try and apprehend dangerous criminals, and now we're getting reassigned? It's not fair! It's not even goddamn _right!_ If we're the best, we should stay on the case and help the goddamn war end sooner!"

"It's because you're the best that I am relocating you," Sesshoumaru said as he stood behind Sango, folding his arms. Behind him Miroku could see Rin's head bobbing behind him like a living shadow, and just as silent.

Sango's face paled and Miroku could see the wall of anger dissipitating. He couldn't help but smile. Sango rarely got caught at anything. It was a rare thing to see Sango caught with her foot in her mouth. Normally that was Ranma or Miroku's job. He tried hiding the smile behind a hand, faking a cough, but Sango glared at him anyway.

"Sorry," was his sheepish shrug. Sango let it go.

Sesshoumaru swept around the table to take a seat at the head. None of the four guests thought it was odd that Rin, eleven years old and slim and slender for her age, climbed on his knee. She sat the same way he did, with his hands clasped and rested on the table. Rin _was_ Sesshoumaru's shadow, and just as voiceless. The sight of the two of them together was so natural that when they separated, that was normally when people began to worry.

"The relocation will only be temporary. I'm afraid I failed to mention to that Miroku-san over the phone. I could have saved you much worry obviously, Tora-san." He looked around the table, briefly staring at each one of them in turn: ferocious and brilliant Sango, caring and intelligent Miroku, amicable and determined Akane, and the reserved quietness and stealth of Ranma, their subterfuge expert. "You four are the best. Together, you four can accomplish anything. I feel it, and so does all the other senior Bureau agents here. Your various—and combined—skills are necessary for this task."

"If he tells us anything will self-destruct after the meeting is over, I'm going to quit," whispered Akane to Sango. No voice was quiet enough for Sesshoumaru to not hear. He glared at her for interrupting but she smiled sweetly back at him. It was only a joke after all.

"You will be returned to your normal case after this one is finished. Speed is of the essence." He reached into the suitcase by his side. Rin wriggled in his lap with excitement and he placed a hand on her dark hair to quiet her. He pulled out a large manila envelop and passed it to Rin for her to open and distribute. "Over the past two years, an increasing number of teenage boys and girls have gone missing. The levels of missing children and missing adults has also increased, but the numbers of the teenagers is truly what concerns us. Over the past month alone, sixty-two children from all over Japan have gone missing. We expected a rise in missing people after Shabranigdo came back."

Ranma nodded. "Right. Shabranigdo and his followers feed off of human beings: blood, lives, body parts… it's only natural that with her summoning people over the numbers would increase as people got eaten. That's what we were working for… to try and keep those demons under control and follow them back to their leader to kill her."

Rather than look upset at being interrupted he nodded. Rin was passing out the contents of the envelope. Miroku was a bit surprise when he saw they were eight by eleven photographs of the missing children, a page stapled to it explaining their ages, names, blood types, birth dates, and backgrounds.

"We can no longer allow these children to go missing. The rates at which they are missing, we think, indicates they have some kind of structure going on. These aren't random kidnappings. All these people missing were teenagers, usually in their late teens and all the way up to their college or university years. Many people who knew them said that over the last month there had been a change in them. They had become moody. Many of them were suffering from depression. A few of them had attempted suicide, according to their records. Shabranigdo is targeting these people. He's targeting people that will come to him willingly: people who are lonely and sad and looking for help. We want to know why… but any adults we send in will automatically be distanced from these people because of their age.

"We don't just need you because you're the best. We don't just want you to take on this assignment because we think you can do it the most effectively, or the quickest. We want you to take this job because you're some of the only people who can. Akane and Miroku are both social and read people well. People will open up to them. You need Sango's brains. And you need Ranma's ability to sneak. More importantly, these people will listen to you. They will talk to you because you aren't quite adults yet, not in looks or behaviour. Some of the people being kidnapped are your own age, from your own schools…"

Akane gasped. She slowly showed the picture she was holding to Sango. "Kamui… Kamui…. We went to school with him in elementary school. Even back then he was so reserved… withdrawn and quiet…"

There was a small moment of silence. "You'll accept the transfer?"

The team glanced at one another. All three of them nodded to Ranma, telling him to speak. He was the only one who didn't look choked up about the situation. "We'll take it."

There was a bit more discussion. After awhile, Sesshoumaru and his shadow left, leaving the four team members to try and figure out where to start.

"He couldn't have given this to us a month ago when school was still on. Where do we begin with this?"

"There's always…. You know, Rezo. We know where to find him. If we go there in peace, then maybe he might be willing to help us, to answer a few of our questions." The others were dubious at Miroku's suggestion. He shrugged. "At least it's a start, right?"

Akane slowly looked up. "As far-out as this is… what about going at seeing the Kanzankis? I've been keeping in touch with them, you know. Merle is fourteen now… almost fifteen. If we explain to her what's going on, she may help us, because Merle is in danger of being taken or having her friends taken because of her age."

The three others stared at Akane and then smiled. "Tendo Akane! Sometimes you are simply brilliant!" Sango cheered, wrapping her arms around Akane. Akane merely blushed.

* * *

Disclaimer: I would claim that I never used the line "In conclusion, I concloude that..."... but I would be lying. To be continued, as always. 


	5. The First Problem

Chapter Four: The First Problem

Miroku ambled the car along the dirt driveway that led to Sango's cottage where she lived with her uncle and, for a predominant part of the year, Akane. He turned the car off so that he didn't have to try to speak over the engine. Turning in the passenger seat to see her he smiled and brushed his dusky bangs from his clear eyes. With a smile he leaned on his chair.

"Well, sweetheart, this is your stop. My charge will be… hm… three kisses?"

Sango smiled. She loved it when Miroku was cute and flirtatious. Somehow… he seemed more like her age then. Since she had met him, the man had been suffering from heart and lung problems, not to mention painful visions and almost being sacrificed. He had aged a lot from the time she'd first seen him, waking up and trying to comfort her with smiles and laughter as she cried by his side, to the man who had been willing to die for her. He'd aged between the time that they had met and when they had started dating. When Miroku became cute and silly it reminded her more of the man she had first met, and possibly the man she loved the most. Part of why she loved Miroku was because of his inate ability to charm and make people smile. When he did that to her she loved him all the more.

Leaning over, she placed three kisses on his face. One went on each cheek, and the last on his nose. Miroku grinned, letting his fingers brush her hair and her ear. Sango shivered at his touch. She loved it when Miroku played with her hair, especially when he wore such a broad smile that it made him look almost cat-like himself. It always reminded Sango of the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_, and Sango find it almost alluring.

"Want to come in for your tip?"

His broad grin vanished in a heart beat. He stared dubiously at the house. Sango knew that look; she had seen it many times before in the past.

Miroku _was_ a pervert. Sango knew it, and so did everyone else. Who knew, however, that it had taken him nearly two weeks when they had started dating to kiss her? Sango had been on pins and needles waiting. She didn't feel right taking the initiative, and she could never figure out why had hadn't simply _done_ it when he'd walked her to the front porch after their first date. He was, back then, always teasing Sango about wanting to make sure she got in safely in case all the mosquitoes in the area realized she was outside and swarmed her, eager for her perfect blood. Back then, he'd always teased her about trying to get into her house.

And then, one day, about a year into their dating, he seemed to realize that Sango was willing to let him, and he simply backed off. There was no more escorting her to the porch door. Miroku stayed locked and seatbelted into his car, gripping the steering wheel, so that he never had the chance to accidentally do something he'd later regret. He never came in after dark; very rarely did he ever stay there after nightfall. Sango never slept over at his house and vice versa. Miroku was always flirting with her, always giving her the little caresses and he always snuck a kiss in whenever he could… but that was it.

Miroku, it turned out, was a perfect gentleman to Sango (minus the odd grope or two). Sango was getting frustrated.

She didn't think she was ready for sex; that was generally a good sign that it was true. She didn't want sex. But, GOD, she wanted to fall asleep next to him. She wanted to have him in the same house. She wanted to watch him makepancakes in his draw-string plaid pajama pants, and she wanted to be able to watch him sleep. She wanted to hold him close as he slept so that she could feel his heart against her palm, and so that she could feel its rhythm slowly begin to match hers beat for beat. She wanted to feel those arms around her and feel safe in her own bed again, because if Miroku was there then she didn't have to worry about him being dead somewhere else.

And every time she brought up him coming into the house he shot it down as politely as he could. It was beginning to annoy her. Didn't he understand? Why did he have to be such a gentleman? Where was the annoying, sexy man who grinned licentiously and groped her and kissed her fiercely and who continued to challenge her? That was supposed to be a part of the man she had chosen! She wanted a challenge now and then!

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sango."

"Fine."

He turned back from the house to stare at her, and his eyes seemed deep blue in the twilight sky and the shadows of the evergreen boughs. Blue eyes suited him a bit better than how they looked when they were grey. He blinked, frowning. "You're upset with me for saying no."

"No, I'm not."

Slowly, he smiled, but it was sad. "Sango, it's no use lying to an empath, especially one who loves you. They're usually the ones who can read you the best." He reached out to brush her cheek, and his touch made her eyes traverse his way, tentatively staring at his mouth to keep from any direct contact. "Why are you so upset whenever I say no?"

She licked her lips nervously. Her gaze was aware that his followed the action, and she could hear his pulse pick up. Her own physical senses, it seemed, were just as attuned to him as his mental ones were to her. Miroku was attracted to her. There was no denying that. "Why don't you ever say yes?"

"Do you want the truth?" he asked, after uncomfortably shifting in his seat.

Finally, her eyes met his. "Yes."

Miroku spoke nervously. "You're… Sango, you're beautiful. I don't want to pressure you into… into doing anything that you're not ready for. I know that if I do that, if I fall asleep against you, or spend the night with you in anyway, that I'm going to start something. I don't know what would happen if we that should happen. How far would it go? Would you be disgusted with me? Would you be scared of me? Would I hate myself?"

Sango shook her head, reaching over and touching his hand. She was hurt when he flinched away. "Miroku," she said sternly, "you're being silly and worrying too much."

"No, I don't think I am. Sango, what would you do if we fell asleep together… no, not even that. What would you do in the morning if I… if I'd slept on the couch and you in your room and in the morning you found me there with an erection because all night I had known you were there?

She stared at him. She honestly didn't know. Sango had only seen an erection on sex-education video tapes. She doubted that she would know what to do with it. The very idea made her feel nervous! "I… I don't know."

"And if you didn't react? If you got scared and couldn't look at me? How do you think I would feel?" He sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt to reach her face, stroking her jaw-line with his masculine hands. "Sango, this isn't me being overly careful. This is me trying to be proper, because that's what you deserve. I don't want to rush into anything too physically intimate because I don't want our relationship to become based solely on sex. As it is, over the school year I don't spend as much time with you as I like, and that's even with us working together. If—even if we were ready to have sex, any type of sex, I worry that I would start equating you with physical pleasure rather than the simple joy of seeing you smile, or the challenge of making you laugh, or watching your nose turn that cute shade of pink when you blush after I grope you. I don't want to ruin this relationship. I don't want to lose you."

She cupped his hand, pressing it against her skin. "You won't lose me, Miroku-sama."

"Good. Then give me a kiss again, a nice long one this time," he added with the licentious grin she had missed, "and get inside before your uncle decides to come check on why I haven't pulled out of the driveway yet… and by the way: I also don't want to accidentally end up sleeping over in case it's your uncle is the one who catches me with morning wood."

Sango giggled as Miroku all but tackled her. His lips descended on hers and in a matter of a few moments, Sango was melting into the car seat, pulling Miroku with her. She loved his kisses. She loved the way his lips ran over hers and the way his body teased her, as if they were playing. The most passionate kisses, as if their flames were dangerous rather than simply enjoyable, could be shattered at a moment's notice when his fingers suddenly tickled the skin of her hipbone.

As they lay cuddled against each other (Miroku's body was rather painfully strung over the gear shift), Sango tilted down her head, her lips sore and throbbing from all of his kisses. "Can I see it?"

"What?"

Sango blinked. Hadn't she made herself clear enough? She gestured down at his pants. "It. You. I… well, um, the closest I've seen to a penis is science class. I've seen lots of diagrams. I can probably draw a picture of it and label all of the pipes correctly automatically because I've had to label them all on tests so often, but I've never seen it in real life." She blinked, completely earnest despite the blush that made her whole face delicious pink. "You know, in the flesh. I want to be more intimate with you, Miroku. I do, really! Isn't that a good way to start?" She paused, peering down at him. His face was red as her own, if not more so. "What?"

He shifted uncomfortably again. Sango had the strangest way of making the most simplest question seem both erotic and making Miroku feel as if he were corrupting her. He'd known that underneath the rough shell she wore at work or at school Sango was really naïve and hard working, but he never really quite realized how naïve or hardworking until it revealed itself. "You really know how to put a guy on edge, Sango."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It keeps this relationship from ever getting boring, I'll say that."

* * *

Akane was in her bed when Sango came in. The blue-eyed girl watched as her roommate came in with a rather puzzled and shocked expression on her face. She walked to her bed automatically, her knapsack hitting the floor of the ex-garage with a thump as Sango all but collapsed on her bed. Akane lifted the book she was reading to hide a half smile. "You were out there for half an hour with Miroku. Between that and your current state, Sango-chan, I'd say that it was a fulfilling and exciting make out session." 

She smiled dreamily as she remembered the way his mouth bore against hers, savoring every millimeter of the connection and the way their breaths mingled like ghosts between them. "One of the best. We always have the best make out sessions after we're verbally or emotionally intimate… it's like realizing I love him all over again, Akane-chan." Sango flopped back on the bed, pausing. She giggled. "He showed me his penis."

Akane's book dropped. So did her jaw. "He did _what_?" For a second she seemed immobile and then the book was flying across the room as she stormed out of bed. "I'm going to go and give that man a good piece of my mind _and_ of my fists! Exposing himself like that in a car to _my _roommate and my best friend? Has he no decency? No sense of moral fiber in his whole body?"

Sango sat up, frowning. "Stop overreacting, Akane. If he'd done it me on his volition I'd even lend you my car keys to hunt him down to spare you gas money. I asked him to show me what it looked like. I'd never seen one before, you know, in real life. Those diagrams don't do much. I didn't really know what it would look like." Sango snorted, grabbing her pillow and hugging it tightly as she peeled off her socks with her toes. "Nothing, no amount of science classes, could have prepared me for the real thing, Akane-chan. It's all… _skin_!"

Akane slowly retrieved her book and sat back down. Much of her still wanted to go after Miroku, but she figured slaughtering an innocent man would probably ruin their friendship. She opened the book again, trying to smooth out a crease. "Well?" she asked eventually. "Is that all you have to report? Skin?"

She looked up when she could feel Sango's suspicious eyes on her. "I'm not trying to be a pervert or nosy, Sango. Just… can I be frank with you about Ranma, Sango-chan?"

"Not only can be frank, you can be George, or Scott, or Walter if you'd like." Sango realized what a horrible joke that was and stifled a groan into her pillow. "Ugh! Even his humor is rubbing off on me after two years!"

"Ranma and I have never even kissed."

"What?" Her head came flying back out of her pillow. Sango's mouth was as agape as Akane's had been a moment ago. "But you two are engaged! What do you mean you haven't kissed yet?"

Akane shrugged. "We haven't. Ranma once told me—and this is strictly in best friend confidante, Sango-chan—that he's scared of girls. I don't want to make the first move or make him feel like he's being pressured into being physical with me. Besides, honestly… sometimes I'm afraid of Ranma. He's like you. He's stronger than me, faster… and… and I can wait. I want both of us to be ready for when it happens." She paused, taking a deep breath. "So, right now you're the one with the most experience between the two of us. I've never seen it in the flesh either, Sango. I want to know what it's like too." She paused, grinning and jumping on Sango's bed. "Is it big?"

"How the hell should I know? It's not like I have anything to compare it to!" Akane flashed her puppy dog eyes, but on this one subject Sango could deal with them. "Next time I'll grab something to eyeball it with comparatively, okay?" she asked sarcastically, making Akane laugh. "Want to know what I _really_ think?"

"Yes, please!"

Sango met her friend evenly in the eye. "I think that God was high when he made the man's body. He got everything else right and then it all goes to shit when you hit the waist. I mean, everything his hairy, and hanging, and fleshy and just…" Sango shivered. "He was without a doubt high."

Akane was nearly peeing with laughter before Sango had finished.

* * *

Kagome Higurashi was a beautiful woman. With large blue eyes crowned with long, full lashes, and hair so dark it seemed to glow, she was still stunningly attractive at thirty-four years of age. She always tried to care for her body. Her husband was a doctor and she feared that if she either lost the youthful slimness of her body he would cease to find her attractive. She was, to her husband Inuyasha, the perfect social wife, the perfect accessory for his arm. Though she wasn't intelligent, she was full of humor and an honest good-nature. When she smiled, it was always in earnest and even the coldest heart would break under her careful companionship. 

Kagome Higurashi didn't exist anymore.

Two years ago she had been possessed by the Demon Lord, Shabranigdo. She was confined to a dark, claustrophobic little corner of her mind. There she had sat for the past two years, watching her beautiful, chastely, and faithful body being continuously used, abused, and violated. She screamed, she cried, and she begged, and the bodiless voice which controlled her body merely found it enjoyable.

She had taken on a new name two years ago. Shabranigdo would not do for the body she inhabited. Nor would Kagome work anymore, for Kagome was not in control of her body. She had chosen a new name. She had chosen to be called Kikyo.

Kikyo's new body was beautiful. She had exercised it more than Kagome did. The arms were lined with muscle, and the stomach was thin from a well-defined six pack, and not from a careful diet. Kikyo used her body as a weapon. It seduced and it killed.

More so, her powers acted on the body itself. Her power was the ability, among other things, to change people on a genetic level. She could transform humans into demons. Sometimes, for punishments or for fun, she had even been known to turn demons into humans. The longer Shabranigdo was inside Kagome's body, the more changes were made to her physiology. At thirty-four, Kagome had appeared not a day over thirty. At thirty-six, Kagome now looked twenty-eight.

Her breasts had become suppler and harder. Her skin had become taught and a proud vitality gave it natural color. Her lips had changed subtly, becoming fuller and more enticing. Working out had helped to develop the leg and buttock muscles, but they seemed longer than normal. Her hands were graceful and well-manicured, and her hair seemed to dance around her in a dark cloud when she moved.

Weary from a day's work, she stood in front of the mirror, inspecting her body. Kikyo slowly slipped out of the sheer nightgown she wore to see herself properly. She smiled in approval at what she saw before her. The body was serving her well, and she had the extra benefit of Kagome's magic at her fingertips. Still… she was tired and sore. That day she had changed one of her acolytes into a half-demon. It had taken much from her. After that, the poor woman had needed to be fed, so Kikyo had overseen to that as well.

The poor man's screams still rang deliciously in her ears. She only hoped they would disappear long enough to allow her body some rest.

As she climbed into bed, a knock upon her door kept her from blowing out the candles on the nightstand beside her. She could feel who it was through the door. "Come in, Suichiro."

He walked into the room, struck by the grandeur of it. Red silk sheets lined the bed and the canopy over it. Gold candlesticks held candles and burning incense, giving the room a potent, unique, and heady scent. The scent alone made the blood in his veins pump harder. When he saw Kikyo, he nearly forgot what she had to say.

Her hair had grown longer. As she lay in the bed it seemed like black wings trapped under her body. Her pouting lips stood out against the cream-colored skin, red with lust, and her blue eyes held such wisdom and intelligence that he felt like a child before her. The sheets were pulled up to her waist, though not out of modesty. The sight of her as she sighed in bed, wriggling to get comfortable and arching her back with a tired yawn made Suichiro move to the bed before he knew what he was doing.

Without a single thought he slipped an arm around her waist and sat on the bed next her, drawing her into the lap with such want and strength she seemed weightless. Suichiro's lips claimed hers and she sighed, though not with the same want that he felt. He stopped, peering down at her puzzled.

"You don't want my administrations tonight, my lady?"

For the past two years Suichiro had had the duty—nay, the _pleasure_ of being Kikyo's physical confidant. Each night (sometimes twice a day) he came into her room and pleased her, worshipping her body with his for hours on ends. Sometimes she would reward him for his administrations by lashing him down and taking control, but for the most part Suichiro was the one in control of their sexual unions, even if it was at Kikyo's beck and call. Kikyo could feed off of the energy expanded by another's physical release, but it left her own body sexually unsatisfied. Suichiro's reward was to please her. Not only did it mean getting to have sex with her—and at twenty-two, that was almost a reward enough—but he had his ego stroked by knowing that she had chosen him, he was capable of pleasing her, and he had the bragging rights of being the only person allowed to share a bed all night with Kikyo. Had she other lovers (and she did) she always kicked them out after sex. Suichiro she allowed to hold her, caress her, and sleep beside her.

"I am tired, Suichiro, and I am hungy. I am more hungry than tired, but not for sex. My body is too tired for sex. I am hungry." She licked her lips. "I have not had blood in such a long time. I _need_ it, Suichiro…"

Kikyo's blue eyes were dazed. Slowly, she reached up, patting his cheeks, and the young man let her go. "You should leave now. I do not wish to feed from you. I will sleep, and tomorrow morning I will find some blood to consume. Butterfly always hates it when I drink blood. She does." The tiniest spark of joy came to her eye and her hands became more animated as she talked. "Butterfly can feel everything I do. She cries when we have sex, Suichiro. She does! She cries because her body enjoys it and she can't deny that it does. But still she hopes that idiot husband of hers will forgive her because she's not in control. But, oh, _oh_, Suichiro! When I drink blood, that is when Butterfly _screams_ in pain because she hates it. She wants to cry and vomit but she can't! She feels as if her body is poisoning herself…"

Suichiro stood up off the bed and took the naked woman gently by her shoulders to look down into her eyes. "Why don't you want to take my blood?" he asked.

She stared back at him, and he realized that she didn't particularly know why. It had just been something she had said. Slowly, she began to try and explain as best she could. "It is often painful… and it will make you weak. Why would I ever want you weak, Suichiro? You are my knight! You are my knight in shining armor, always there when I need you! I don't want to hurt you. I want you where you are…."

Her voice trailed off. Suichiro's dark eyes never left hers, and under the patient, aged stare, thousand-year old Shabranigdo gave in a little bit more. She lifted her hands, bracing them against his solid chest. "I have wanted you blood for the longest time, sometimes. I have wanted it for so long, I do not know if I will be able to control myself. You could end up dead. I was serious, Suichiro. This world is still strange and new to me, even with all I have learned. I have no way to survive in it in the lifestyle I desire. I need your help not just for gratification, but for me to live, Suichiro. If I lost control of myself and I ended up killing you, where would I go? Who would take your place? How could I survive? How could my people survive? It is a chance I dare not take."

Suichiro's hands slipped from hers. He bowed stiffly, heading for the door. Before he left, he turned to see her still standing, her naked form glowing radiantly in the dying candlelight. Suichiro smiled at her. "I'll be that intimate with you, my lady. Just wait and see. I'll make myself so indispensably close to you, you'll have to take me." His voice softened and he leaned on the ajar door. "You're everything to me, my lady. Somewhere over the past few years, I've learned I can't live without you. I live only to serve you, my lady. Please, let me serve you."

They stared at each other a moment, and then Kikyo slowly nodded with a smile.

If Suichiro wanted something, Suichiro would get it.

* * *

Unable to sleep, Sango found herself wrapped in a blanket sitting on the patio of the cottage at three in the morning. She was watching the moon reflect back across the water, making it appear as black as pitch with tiny silver crests. The summer bugs weren't too bad with the citronella candle smoking lazily near by, and Sango loved the tenderness in the air. The world was fragile out by the lake at three am. The slightest sound seemed like an explosion, ready to send the world into chaos from the interruption. 

She liked it because it gave her time to think about. Over the last half of a year, she'd had a lot to think about. When she heard the patio door open and close behind her she didn't need to look to know it was her uncle. He always heard it whenever she or Akane moved about the house at night, but he never complained. It was only natural that after sitting outside for half an hour he should worry why she hadn't returned back to the house. Sango had been expecting—and hoping that her uncle would come out. What she hadn't expected was the steaming mug of tea he handed to her.

"Thank you, Uncle."

Kakashi leaned against the other patio chair, sipping his own mug. He'd thrown on a bathrobe to keep from being consumed alive by the bugs, unlike Sango who thrived to feel the cold air along the skin of her shoulders and arms revealed by the tank top. "What's on your mind, Sango?"

"Miroku."

He smiled, leaning over to glance at her hands. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Had he asked her? Had she turned him down? "And why are you thinking about your licentious boyfriend?"

She glanced at him to see he wore a smile behind his raised tea cup. Sango sighed and looked down at the mug in her hands, wrapping both hands around it to let the warmth soak into her cold fingertips. Her brown eyes stared down at it without seeing it. "We've been dating for two years, Uncle… and I'm scared. Do you know how much I've aged in that time? Physically? Nothing. I'm twenty-three years old, Uncle, and I have the body of an eighteen-year old. My genes are catching up with me. I'll be graduating from university next year, and yet physically, my body is just exiting puberty."

Kakashi nodded understandingly. "And Miroku, being fully human, has aged two years."

"Yes. Did I tell you that Urahara and I have been playing with my blood lately? We've been taking samples, having the computer analyze it… and I don't like what it says. When Inuyasha and Kagome started dating, Inuyasha was much older than Kagome. Now they're the same age. Miroku's already older than me. We won't have that luxury."

He stayed rooted to the spot when he saw the tears starting to roll over her cheeks. He knew Sango. She didn't realize that she was crying. If he drew attention to it, she'd close herself off. He wanted to hold her and wipe those tears away, but he felt it was much more important to let Sango get everything off of her chest.

"Urahara-sama and I ran tests. We tried to predict how much I would age. When Miroku turns thirty, I will be twenty-four. When Miroku turns forty, I will be twenty-nine. When he turns fifty, I will be thirty-two. When he turns sixty, I will be thirty-four. By the time Miroku is eighty, I will not even be thirty-six. The anti-aging genes willwork harderthe older I get. I am going to watch the man I love die while I will still be healthy and in the prime of life."

"And it scares you?" She nodded fervently. Kakashi took a sip of his tea. "I would be scared too."

"I love him, Uncle. The more I think about it, the more I think that I should let him go. He could get over me. He could marry a human girl. They could age normally together… It would hurt both of us. I think he'd hate me for it… I don't know if I could stand having him hate me, but I wouldn't be there, beside him, watching him fade away from me…"

He thought a moment. Slowly, he sat in the chair next to Sango. "Love, listen to me. Life is full of tough choices. Some of them are tougher than normal. I will tell you something, a secret. I will tell you how to become a senior agent in the IBSP." Her brown eyes flashed his way, instantly listening. She always wanted to be a senior member, and both of them knew it. "You have to get married."

"What?"

Kakashi nodded. "You have to get married. All the senior couples, with very few exceptions, are married couples. More so, they are all arranged so that demons wed demons and humans wed humans. When a demon marries a human, they no longer work for the IBSP. The reason for it is because the IBSP tries to keep people from making marriages like that. The secret would be too easy to get out. It would mean children like you, Sango: people who age slowly and yet have the human drive to be social creatures. We can't hide that there are demons if we have hundreds of people running around looking twenty when they are really thirty or forty. That is really why the IBSP offers housing. It is a way for demons to hide. They never have to leave. They can live there, cloistered from human society. Human marriages are encouraged because they allow the IBSP to have a social face, to have people who look and age normally serving as a social farce and diversion from the other members of the IBSP.

"But human-demon marriages are frowned upon. They never work for the IBSP once they are married. So, you will have a choice, Sango. You can either, someday, marry Miroku and leave the IBSP, and hope your children have enough human in them to survive normally in the world, or you can not marry him, and marry a demon to have a strong demon child, and become a senior member of the IBSP. Senior members, Sango, are training their replacements. When Akane and Ranma marry, Fuu and Ferio have decided to retire, and Akane and Ranma will take over their duties."

Sango was pale as she sat curled up on the patio chair. "So, if I were to marry Urahara, the way I had wanted to when I was sixteen, I could become a senior agent, and we could continue working together in his lab?" Her uncle nodded. "And if I were to wed Miroku… I'd have to leave." This time he nodded sadly. Her voice shook. "Does Miroku know?"

"No."

"I think I am going to go to bed… I need sleep to think about this rationally." Sango handed the mug glanced to her uncle. Her eyes were disturbingly void of the passion Kakashi had watched blossom in her from her youth. Still, she forced the painful words to be spoken, knowing that in the nearby future, many more painful words would need to be said. "Thank you, Uncle."

* * *

To be continued...


	6. The Elric Brothers

Chapter Five: The Elric Brothers

The next day the four of them—Sango, Akane, Ranma, and Miroku—went to go and visit the Fanel family. They had met them all three years ago. Hitomi's cousin had been killed by Shabranigdo's families, and Hitomi herself had not remained unscathed.

They had taken her eyes.

As they drove to the house, Miroku glanced now and then from the passenger seat at Sango, sitting beside him. He didn't know what it was, but something about the way she spoke and acted bothered him. She felt… distanced. He knew he could probe deeper into the subject with his mind, to try and brush hers and get some inkling as to what she was feeling, but he didn't want to even dare trying. It felt too much like it would be an invasion of privacy.

"What is it?" she demanded, having caught him staring once more.

"Sango… are you… are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

"Of course I am! I just…" Sango shifted uncomfortably. "I just don't like it when you stare at me like that."

She was telling the truth. Miroku didn't think he'd quite like being stared at either. Not unless Sango was staring at him like she wanted to rip his clothes off his body. That would probably be enjoyable, in fact. No, on second thought, it wouldn't be. Sango was too logical and sensible to look at him like that, even if it was in the throes of unaltered passion. Still, Miroku admit to himself, turning back to the window, Sango was hiding something from him. He just didn't know what it was.

* * *

Kanzaki Hitomi sighed as she placed the basket of laundry on the kitchen table. She smiled at her husband, sitting with one ankle braced on the other knee and reading a newspaper. She could smell the scent of green tea mingled with a touch of honey drifting up from her seat at the table.

"Van…" she softly called out his name, smiling at him. Van regarded her levelly, but not without his face softening with love. Hitomi's smile grew, as if she could feel the hardness leaving his body at her words. "Van, will you read me the newspaper?"

"Why?"

She put the shirt down, leaning over his newspaper. She could feel his breath on her lips. He smelled like green tea and honey too. "Because," she said, a little childishly. "I like the sound of your voice. I want to know what's going on in the world, Van. Tell me what good things are going on in the world today, Van."

Hitomi could feel it as he began to blush. She could feel the heat on her face, and Van leaned up to kiss his wife. "Will you let me fold the laundry too? You should sit down and enjoy your tea while it's still warm…"

"No, no." She pushed him gently back down in the seat. His hands were touching her too, pushing her short brown hair over her ear so it wouldn't tickle her cheeks anymore. "I always feel like I don't do enough. Let me fold the clothes."

Van unfolded the newspaper and began reading to her. He watched her as he read. Watching Hitomi perform the simple act was almost like a complicated ballet act. Her hands ran along the edges of the clothes she folded, and she brought them together cautiously, laying them flat on the kitchen table to adeptly smooth out any wrinkles her fingers found before she made the next fold. She was smiling as she worked, her eyes closed. Van watched her face as much as he watched those strong, slender hands working steadily. Her smile made the apples of her cheeks stand out, and her long lashes seemed to float over them like a dark cloud.

She never opened her eyes around him. Van had once told her that the first thing he'd loved about her was her eyes. Even when he thought Hitomi was weird and a little delusional when they had first met as children, he still thought that she had the prettiest eyes of anyone he'd ever met. They were deep green, the way a forest seemed unending as you peered into lush underbrush. They were always wide and rather innocent looking, even when she was angry.

Hitomi didn't have her eyes anymore. She was blind. They had gotten her glass eyes… but sometimes, he felt like he was looking at an animated doll when she wore them around him. Her face was still animated and full of the expressions Van had cherished—as if Hitomi displayed the emotions he couldn't—but there was no life in her eyes. When her eyes were closed, it always made her look beautiful… as if she were sleeping, sweet-faced and youthful.

Van couldn't help it anymore. He all but leapt from his chair, sweeping Hitomi off her feet and pulling her against him. There was a small sound of surprise from Hitomi before his lips covered her. She tasted like green tea and honey. Hitomi threw her arms around him, kissing him back and holding on to him so tightly that her arms felt weak.

"You look beautiful, Hitomi," he assured her, kissing her again. This time it was slower and more intimate. He pulled away, blushing a little, and Hitomi smiled in surprise.

"You're blushing," she teased.

"And you're supposed to be blind," Van grumbled, embarrassingly retreating into his newspaper again.

Hitomi laughed. She had a wonderful sense of humor. Hitomi reached out and grabbed Van's newspaper from him. She knew she'd gotten it all when she heard him leap back up in surprise. Hitomi tucked it behind her body. "Van Fanel, I can always tell when _you_'re blushing. I can tell when you're mad, too. When you get mad, you get a little crease right here, between your eyes."

"I do not!" He knew that he did.

Hitomi giggled, slowly putting the table between herself and Van. She didn't need eyes to tease Van, or sight. All she needed was her smile. She leaned over the table, grinning from ear to ear. "If you want the newspaper back, Van, you're going to have to take it from me." She heard him cracking her knuckles. "You never could catch me, not even when you were all the way in high-school and I was still an elementary school kid. Not even with your longer legs, you couldn't catch me."

"I'll get it back this time."

"Big words, Van." She screeched and laughed excitedly when she heard his feet on the floor, chasing after her. She seemed to float as she rounded the table, keeping it between herself and Van. They went around three times. Van knew he could win easily be putting a chair in her way. She'd never see it, but that would not only be mean, but cheating. Van liked playing fairly.

He stopped chasing her. He knew she could hear him coming. Instead, he began sneaking up on her very, very quietly. He was almost within grasp of the paper when she spoke. "If I can tell when you're blushing, don't you think I can feel you sneaking, too, Van?" She smiled, and turned her face a little towards him. "I don't need sight to be a psychic, Van Fanel. That's why I know that you're the best husband in the whole wide world." She offered him back a slightly wrinkled newspaper.

Van ignored it. Instead, he smiled at her, and watched her blush in surprise. "I am, am I?"

She nodded, lifting her head to brush his chin with her nose. She wrinkled her nose when it itched. "You didn't shave this morning. It itches."

"Oh?" Van threw the paper on the table and grabbed Hitomi, rubbing his cheek against her hair, mustling it up and making her squirm in her stronger grip. She laughed, telling him to stop, but Van wouldn't have it. He picked her up and deposited her on the couch in the living room, still teasing her. Pinned under her, he started tickling her too. "Come on, Hitomi! I'll let you up. All I want to hear you say is… is… is that you're still a little girl who likes watching Ghibli! Come _on_! Say it!"

Hitomi giggled, squirming. She enjoyed Van's idea of foreplay. "That's ri-ri-ri-ridiculous! Ha! Eeek!" She laughed even louder when he found a very ticklish spot over her hip. "Van! That ti-ti-_tickles_!"

"It's supposed to, Hitomi. Merle's at school. There's no one here. We're home alone. You can finally admit that you like kiddy shows!"

"I think your torture's gotten soft," she laughed, slapping his shoulder gently. His hand slipped into hers and pinned it against the green couch. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned down, his lips brushing hers. He wasn't tickling her anymore, but she was still smiling, her heart pounding in her chest. His lips covered hers gently and Hitomi sighed. It was in such stark contrast to the hard body laying over her or the strong grip in her hand that she sighed.

As soon as she made a sound, his grip tightened. His lips pressed against her harder and his other hand snaked under her back, supporting her neck. Her soft lips parted for him, and he moaned at the sensation of her warmth enveloping him. Hitomi's other hand lifted, running up and down his arm as her body pressed itself against his, molding against him in perfect, uncontested unity. Slowly, Van's kiss softened until it seemed to be as light, sweet, and painful as the edge of a feather passing over her red lips.

"I need you, Hitomi Kanzaki."

She nodded feverishly. The feeling was completely mutual. She lifted her hand from his arm to brush her cheeks. They were damp. His thumb brushed her cheek and she knew why he was crying. He wanted her out of attraction; he was crying out of loss and a loneliness he couldn't quite understand; he needed her for both of those reasons.

As he watched, the warmth and the passion he could feel slowly possessing her slim frame vanished in a heartbeat. Her eyes snapped open, dead and lifeless in a flushed face. "Someone's at the door, Van."

Sure enough, the doorbell rang. Van leaned down, nipping playfully at her ear, trying to ease the tension from her body. "If it's really urgent they can come back after we're done."

"No, Van." She pulled her hand free of his with deceptive ease. His grip had been tight—not oppressive. She place a hand against his chest, pushing him off without restrained. The expression on her face was panic, and he could feel it catching. "It's the IBSP—it's Sango and the others. What if… what if this is about Merle?"

At once both of them were off of the couch. Van was the first to reach the door, flinging it open wide. "What is it? Is it about Merle?" he demanded at once, catching them off-guard.

Akane was the first to find her voice. "N… No, Fanel-san."

Both of them let out a sigh of relief. Hitomi offered them a smile and placed her hands on her husband's arm, reassuring him and gently pulling him from the door. "In that case this must be a social visit, hm? Please, come in! Van has some tea made up… I think there may be enough for all of you." She was still smiling when she shut the door behind them.

"You'll have to forgive us. Ever since we noticed that there was a slowly rising number of girls missing, we can't help but jump whenever the phone rings and Merle's not with us."

Ranma appeared puzzled. "I don't mean to be rude, but… well, were told at the IBSP that the general public didn't know about the increasing number of missing kids." The other three were nodding. "I know that you two know about the Bureau and all, but technically you're still the general public. How do you guys know about it?"

Both of them exchanged glances. Miroku sat down cross-legged on the floor, soaking up the warmth of the house. He loved their house. It was wonderfully androgynous. Everywhere he looked, he could see a mixture of Van's masculine side—like the green leather couch—and the touches of femininity from Hitomi that made the house loose the coldness of Van's taste. He would love to lie on the soft floor, sinking into the deep fibers and lay there for hours, trying to untangle the house and find where one ended and the other began. Which came first: Van's couch or the flowers on the coffee table to compliment it?

As always, if the house was a strange mixture of Van and Hitomi, then two of them were a strange mixture of each other. When one spoke, the other always seemed to be in agreement. They always glanced at each other before speaking silently deciding which one of them was best suited to the subject. They were always touching each other in small gestures: Hitomi's hand on Van's knee or his shoulder brushing hers. More than anything, he was astounded how easily they had adapted to Hitomi's disability. Van touched her shoulder or her hand when something was in her way, he'd noticed, applying just enough pressure to steer her away from a slight change in normally familiar surroundings.

Hitomi answered. "Some of the girls that have gone missing have been from the local area. Four of them were from Merle's school. A little boy who was kidnapped lived down the street. Another was a mother who sometimes sat for Merle when Van and I needed a break when Merle had been younger. Another one was a man Van worked with whose wife had died recently. We knew many of the people taken. How could we not notice?"

"And now you worried about Merle because you think she could be next?" Akane gently queried.

Van nodded. "How could we not? Two years ago Shabranigdo's followers came after Hitomi. What's to stop them from taking Merle from us this time, or coming after Hitomi again because she's vulnerable?"

"We are," Sango answered. Her mouth was set in a thin line as she sat beside Miroku on the lush rose carpet. Her eyes were the shade of brown-gold that were level and determined, reminding Miroku of some kind of predatory bird more than a large tiger. "We're assigned to find out how those guys are being taken and to put a stop to it!" Sango balled a fist and smacked her open palm emphatically.

"You didn't do a good job of stopping it last time until after someone in this family had gotten hurt!" Van snapped. "And Shabranigdo still came back! Your goal may have been to put an end to organ harvesting, but that just stopped itself because they had all they needed to bring back the demon Lord! Now they're just taking the whole bodies rather than just one or two organs!"

All four of them looked hurt. They had never considered it that way. Hitomi was shocked. She looked ready to cry. "Van! How can you…"

"It's true! You were thinking so too, Hitomi!" he snapped at her. She looked away guiltily. He had been telling the truth. She had questioned their capability to do the job before Merle was hurt. Van kept shouting. "What's to tell us that this time you'll succeed before someone else in my family has to suffer? How do we know that things will be different this time! Do you even have any clues? Do you even know where to look?"

Akane's eyes were locked on the ground. "Well… well no."

"That's why we came to you." Ranma's eyes were steady and level, just as Sango's were. Although initially hurt, their prides helped them to bounce back quickly. Akane was hiding behind her dark lashes, avoiding Van's face.

Miroku felt the worst of them. He was the one foreseeing who would be the next person targeted by Shabranigdo's followers. He was the one who should have been able to figure out it was Hitomi and where they had hidden her! He should have been able to do that! Why! Why hadn't he been able to do that?

His fingernails were digging into his palms. He could taste blood as he bit his cheek to keep his emotions from showing. Hitomi had forgiven him, long ago. She'd told him that it wasn't his fault. She could see without eyes. She could still see people. She had told him that it was fate and that if he was to blame, then so was she. She hadn't done anything to stop it either.

He felt a hand slip into his. _Sango_. He squeezed her hand.

"We were hoping," Ranma continued, "that maybe you might be able to help us find a clue. Hitomi can do Tarot cards, can't she? Help us find a clue!"

Hitomi was already shaking her head. "I can't. I can't do readings anymore, Ranma-kun." She smiled in his direction, but it was sad and terribly forced. "I can still get visions, on occasion. I had one before you rang the doorbell. I knew it was you four. But I can't do predictions anymore. I can't see the cards to read them. Unless… unless…" She glanced up at Van. "Unless _you_ can read them for me, Van. Then I can decipher them. But we would need time to be able to teach Van the proper placements and the proper shuffling…"

Miroku slowly lifted his head to look up at her. He didn't need to say anything before she'd turned to him. She could feel his eyes on her as easily as if he had reached out and touched her. He flinched under her lifeless gaze, so unlike the pictures of her in their family photos on the wall. "Hitomi-san… isn't there anything you can do to help us?" He released Sango's hand to lean down on his hands and knees. "Even me… I'm psychic. You can use me. You have before! Please, I don't want to hurt your family again! Let me do anything I can to help!"

He felt cool fingers brush back charcoal-colored hair. He looked up to see Hitomi kneeling in front of him, and he felt like there was only the two of them in the world. Her eyes were still green and lifeless, without the intensity or vivacity she'd had before she had been blind, but in her face as she smiled softly they appeared amazingly warm and human-like.

"You're asking for something intimate and complicated, Miroku-kun. It would be almost easier using Van as an intermediatary than you."

"Please!"

She gave it considerable thought. Finally, she shook her head. "Your skills are no longer adequate enough for that use, Miroku. Allowing me to enter your mind would be far too much like me controlling you. You would burn yourself out. Besides, you're talking about going up against Shabranigdo, aren't you? You think that this case may somehow involve him. If he is behind this, then…" Hitomi sighed, giving up explaining. "This is far too dangerous, using clairvoyance against someone like him. Using you to read cards… well, I should be able to read cards without attracting to much attention, but you wouldn't be able to hold me back, Miroku. I'd have free range of your body, and it would be too much like domination, as if you were a slave. I won't do something like that. I will teach Van. It will take several days, at least."

Akane's voice wavered. "You can't do _anything_?"

Both adults stared at each other. Hitomi answered. "I'm on the PTA. We can talk to the school and the class. You guys might be able to get into the classrooms, talk to the kids. They may know something. At the very least, you can show them how to protect themselves and warn them about the danger." She glanced back at them. "The IBSP _should_ be warning people about these attacks. People can't protect themselves from what they don't know exists. At least if it's made public that missing rates are going up, people will take precautions and won't be so stupid as to walk home from classes by themselves, or take the subway alone."

* * *

The arrangements went by so quickly that the four students were astounded. After their visit with Hitomi they called Kakashi and Miroku's foster parents to report. All three of them thought the idea was wonderful. They went to speak to Sesshoumaru, and before they knew it Kakashi was calling them back as they sat at lunch.

"Due to short notice," he said, "it's going to have to be an after-school thing. It's completely voluntary, so don't expect kids to show up. However, we also offered to show them some self-defense moves, so kids will hopefully show up for that. You'll have an hour only. Dress appropriately: Sango and Akane, this means no short skirts. This is a high-school after all. The last thing we need to the teenage boys following you around and getting Ranma and Miroku in a twist as a result. Guys, what you guys are wearing should be fine. Ranma, you're going to be in charge of the drills. Sango and Akane, you're on presentation. Miroku, you just do your empathy thing. Call me when it's over. Ja!"

* * *

When they arrived at the school they were amazed to see that there were so many kids. Originally they were going to hold it in the classroom, but so many kids had signed up on their lunch hour for the one-time only even that they needed to steal the gymnasium instead. They had a chalkboard pulled in so Sango and Akane could write, and the kids were surprisingly orderly. As soon as the four of them walked into the room, all of the noise stopped. The kids sat down in an orderly fashion, and not even a whisper could be heard.

Miroku found it entertaining. Kids could be so well-behaved when they found out they were going to get to learn a few easy throws. In the back he spotted Merle, her hair a vibrant pink. The girl next to her, smiling, also had pink hair. Miroku smiled back at Merle, and both of them went red with embarrassment.

Akane took the bull by the horns as if she had been born to teach. "I hope that everybody knows what this is really about. How many of you know somebody whose gone missing in the past two years?" Almost all the hands in the room went up. "How many of you knew the person well?" Half of them stayed up.

"I didn't think there'd be so many," Sango whispered to Miroku. He nodded in agreement.

"For the past two years, there's been an increase in the number of people going missing. Some of them have been found, but none alive. It's an incredibly harsh reality," she added softly, as one of the younger kids sniffled a little. "It hurts. I know it does. People I've gone to school with have been killed as well. People I remain friends with to this day have been kidnapped. There are a lot of mean people out there in the world, and you have to be able to recognize them. You guys are in high school! How can you look out for your younger siblings, your friends, girlfriends, or boyfriends if you can't look out for yourself?

"The four of us are in charge of the some of the investigations into why the disappearance rates are rising. The grumpy one is Ranma. To my left are Sango and Miroku. At any point in this you can raise your hand ask questions. Okay?" Kids were nodding all around. "First, there is a special toll-free number you can call. You can copy it down later. If you think that someone is going to hurt you, call it! I can't stress this enough. It's there for you to use. Secondly, you can leave us messages if we need to talk. These are our emails. We check them regularly. You guys are some of our best eyes and ears, understand? We were teens not too long ago ourselves. We know what's like. Adults treat you like children; children treat you like adults. You don't know where you stand, and you feel like you're alone, but you're not. Look around! All these people are scared and suffering and lonely, just like you are! And we're here. We're here to help you so that you guys won't feel that fear. You shouldn't. You guys should be out having fun." She smiled at them all. "So that's why we'll end with a bit of fun today."

One of the kids raised their hands. Akane gestured to him. "_Why_ do people get taken?"

"An excellent question! What's your name, hon?"

"Alphonse. Elric Alphonse."

"Everyone just calls him Al," one his friends sad.

She smiled at both of them in turn. "That's an excellent question. I wish I had an excellent answer for it. We don't know why people get taken. We do know, however, that the majority of people taken have the same kind of personalities. First…"

Leaving Akane to do her job, Miroku concentrated on his own. He leaned against the chalkboard, listening to each kid speak in turn. They did speak. They asked question, good questions. All the kids there—even Merle—had one thing in common. They were all overly stressed. Miroku mentioned it subtly to Ranma, who said he'd take care of it.

He concentrated harder, wishing he was able to pick up on their thoughts…

"So," Al asked tentatively, "basically all the people who go missing, they all have some kind of depression, right?"

Akane glanced at Miroku and he leaned over to whisper in her ear. She glanced down at her watch. They'd already taken more time than she'd planned on talking. She leaned down and spoke directly to the cute blond kid. "Yes, they do. We're going to start doing the fighting exercises, Al. If you want to talk some more, we can send you off with Miroku. Miroku likes listening very much. The offer is open to anyone who wants to talk more. If you go with him, Miroku'll show you a very neat trick too."

He smiled at them all, nodding.

Al looked like he was debating. His blue-eyed friend nudged him. "Go on! You already know how to fight, Al. Besides, you need to get this off of your chest."

"Do you think so, Fletcher?"

"Yeah. Come on. You're always telling me to do the right thing. It's time you took your own advice!"

Alphonse and four other kids, one of them the pink-haired girl that had been so friendly with Merle, opted to go with Miroku. He took them into an empty classroom and he astounded them by hoping up and sitting on one of the tables. He smiled at them and laughed, breaking the tension.

"I used to love sitting like this when I was in high school. I felt like I was on top of the world. It's ironic that the desks were so much more comfortable than the chairs. Come on, guys. Hop on up. It'll be our secret." Slowly, the five kids climbed up on the desk. When they did, he felt them slowly relax. Miroku smiled at them all again, offering each one of them a supporting smile. "Now… Alphonse, Sakura, Fletcher, Akira, and Lee, right? Good. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you guys all kind of feel like you're going to be next, right?"

All of them nodded, and Sakura shyly spoke out, playing with her long pink hair. "All of us have been feeling depressed lately. We all knew Fletcher's older brother. He was one of the best basketball players in the district. He was the team captain. Then…" She glanced around shyly, and the continued. "Then his girlfriend, according to rumor, threatened suicide. They got her help, but he was never the same after he almost lost her."

"Brother started drugs," Fletcher continued. "Our parents found out… they made him join a rehabilitation group because they thought he was addicted. But then… he started talking about how the leader of the group was wonderful. He could help you with anything, he said."

"At first," said Lee, "we thought we had our captain, back, you know?"

"You're on the basketball team?" Miroku asked.

Lee nodded. "Yeah. I play forward. Akira plays defense. We're both seniors. The other three are juniors, and Sakura's one of the cheerleaders for the school." He shifted uncomfortable, glancing at the younger two boys. "We're not friends with those guys, not really. I mean, we don't hang out or anything, but we watched Fletcher and Al grow up."

"Go on."

"Like I said. He kept talking about how the guy was gold, like he was in love with him or something. And then…"

"And then Mom died," Al sadly interrupted. "It was two years ago almost. My brother, Ed, he never got over it. He blamed Dad. Said that it was Dad's fault Mom had died. They kept arguing and getting into fights. Once or twice the neighbors even called the cops with a public disturbance complaint from all the yelling. Finally, Dad had had enough. He told Edward to get out. He said he didn't want to see him anymore." Tears dripped from his cheeks, but no one drew attention to them except Sakura. She put her arms around him, leaning over from a nearby desk.

"I don't think brother was expecting that. I was hiding when they were fighting. I could see his face when Dad told him never to come back again. It was... he was crushed. I don't think he expected it to ever go that far. But he did… turned and he left, because he didn't know how to give up on his pride that told him he was right, that told him he hated Dad, that told him he…"

Akira slowly began speaking when he realized Al was crying too hard to continue. "Al and Fletcher's brother hooked up. Ed was so depressed that he agreed to go to the group. The next morning, when he showed up for school, it was like he was a new person. He didn't even talk about the fight with his dad. We heard about it from Al. All Edward could talk about was the new girl he'd met at the group. We heard about how beautiful she was, about how smart she was…"

Sakura frowned bitterly. "I don't even know her name, but I hated her. Before his mom died, Edward-kun would always flirt with me. He and Merle-chan were the whole reason I fought with my parents to let me stay on the cheerleading team when they starting talking about my grades. The day of the fight… he _smiled_ at me, a little bit like how you were smiling at Sango-san, Miroku-san, and he told me that when the thing with his dad was over, he wanted to take me out. I knew I was too young, but I said yes anyway, because Edward-kun made me happy… even if he couldn't make himself happy."

Lee was staring at the floor. "The circle meets twice a week. Ed slowly got worse. He's always had a bit of his temper, especially about his height, but this was like nothing we could remember. All he could talk about was needing the circle, needing to see her again. He was cold and shivering… I'll never forget it when I saw him. It was like he was going through withdrawl."

"Fletcher's brother was one of the people who went missing," Akira pointed out. "We asked Edward what had happened, if he'd seen Russel. He said that Russel had shown up for the group therapy and had been asked by the teacher to stay later. Edward went on by himself. He was staying with Russel and Fletcher at their house. Russel never came home that night."

"So now we're scared, Miroku-san." Sakura spoke with a perfectly straight voice. He could see the tears running over her cheeks as she held Al, trying to calm her friend down, but her voice never betrayed it. "Lately, everyone who knew those two have been getting more and more worried. We find ourselves thinking of ways to make the worry go away… the basketball team was disbanded after a lot of the members were found smoking marijuana behind the gym. We've noticed that the washrooms smell of it. Once in a while, a kid will come to the school hung over. Fight rates have gone up as people step on each other's toes. Kids walk around in groups because it's safer that way. We're scared because we feel like we're going to be next, like everyone in our school is going to just disappear like Russel."

Miroku was nodding understandingly. He'd been quiet the whole time, but the teens didn't feel alienate by it. Instead, they felt reassured that this man was giving them the respect to speak with as few interruptions as possible. His blue eyes slowly turned down to Al. "And you, Al? You were the first one to speak out."

"I… I…" He sniffled, and glanced around. "As of late, I've been thinking of killing myself. I mean, it would be so easy to do. I'm home alone. It's not that I want to die! I don't! I love life, Miroku-san! There's so much I want to do! I want to go out on a date! I want to make the basketball team like Ed! I want to get the highest mark in science like Ed! But… I keep thinking… that if _Ed_ still loves me, and if _Dad_ still loves me… then if I'm gone, maybe they'll find a way to make up, because I wanted them too and they don't want to disrespect the dead."

Sakura's arms tightened around him. "A lot of kids are talking about it… suicide." She whispered the word, as if she were afraid to hear it. "A lot of kids are in pain. So they think to themselves that if they die, they won't have that pain anymore. The teachers are worried. They know. The kids write about it in literature classes. The teachers are afraid to tell the parents in case it's a false alarm…"

"And as silly as it," Akira finished, "we're worried that they'll call in the group therapy. We're worried that we'll start acting like Edward or Russell after they went. Basketball is our life. Friends, school, girls! That's what's important to us! We're not normally like this. We're not!"

"We just…" Fletcher turned to look up at Miroku from his desk. "We just worry." He smiled a little. "A lot."

Miroku ran his hand over his face and sighed. "Do you guys know the name of the group therapy?" He watched as they all exchanged glances. "What is it?"

"Brother always referred to as 'the Group'." Fletcher shrugged. "It didn't need a name. He was only in one group. Just like he referred to the basketball team as 'the Team'. He never called it by name."

Al shifted uncomfortably. "There's something else, Miroku-san. Lately, my brother has been thinking about changing religions."

"Oh?"

"Yeah… he says that there is no eternal soul." Al paused, blushing deeply. "Well, Fletcher and I… we're descended from Britains, you see? So our families raised us to be Christians, even if we like Shinto more. Edward started denying that there was an immortal soul. He started saying that there was no real afterlife. He started saying that there was no such thing as… as sin. What determined morality was how you felt. He started saying that what was good felt right. I don't know much about it. I didn't like to hear him speak like that," he finished bitterly.

* * *

When the hour was over, Miroku reported to them what he had found out from the teenagers. All of them reached the same conclusion. The group therapy had some connection to the missing kids. They just didn't know what is was yet.

* * *

Alphonse walked home slowly. He was hungry and tired from a long day of school. A long night of homework was ahead of him. Thinking about it made him depressed. It hadn't been so bad when Edward was home. Then they would sit at the table together and help each other. Now the house seemed empty without Ed being at home.

"Hey brat." Al looked up to see his young brother blocking the sidewalk, braced legs and hands on his hips in typical heroic Edward-style. His gold eyes shone as he smiled at his little brother fondly. It was the happiest Edward Al remembered seeing in a long time. Edward winked at his taller brother. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes!" He rushed to his brother and hugged him tightly. Burying his face in his brother's shoulder, he felt like weeping at seeing Edward safe, alive, and happy. "I worried about you, big brother! You weren't at school today."

"I know. I went to the Group last night. The instructor wanted to hear all about you. They'd asked me what I had valued most in life. I told them I valued you."

"Me?"

Edward smiled, stroking his brother's hair. "I told them you were the most important thing in my life, Al. You're all the family I have left. She told me that she wanted to meet with you. I stayed up all night telling her about you, Al. She's promised to take us all to supper tonight."

Al's smile wavered. "I… I have studying to do, Edward."

"It can wait."

"But… but it's studying! You're always telling me I have to study more or I won't get to be as smart as you."

"It can wait, Alphonse." He took his brother by the shoulder, looking up into his face. "Come with me? Please?"

Al thought quickly. "If I come with you, will you come home and make amends with Dad?" His brother's face closed off. Al was begging. "Please! We miss you! Please, for me? I can't stand being there by myself anymore, Edward! You're my _brother_! Please, make amends. It will only be for one more year. Then… then you can move out. You find a place of your own and get a job… and I can come spend the night sometimes. I'll come over and you can pester me into doing my homework. Please, Ed? Please?"

Edward straightened, retracting his hands. "Fine."

"Really? You mean it, Edward?"

"Yeah," he grumbled, kicking at the sidewalk. "I mean it. Like I said, I'd do anything for you, Alphonse."

Alphonse smiled.

* * *

To be Continued... 

Disclaimer: Fletcher, his brother, Al, and Edward are all characters from Full Metal Alchemist. Sakura is from Naruto. Van, Hitomi, and Merle are all from Escaflowne. I don't claim to own any of them.


	7. The Liability

AN: As usual, bribes have worked again. Go Margo.

Chapter Six: The Liability

"My body is going to hate me for this later," Sango said, licking her spoon as she leaned over the ice cream cup. Her golden-brown eyes were twinkling as gazed over it at Miroku, the dark hair gathered in a ponytail falling over her shoulder. She looked beautiful in the twilight like of the boardwalk. Wearing a light tan-jean jacket and a sundress against the warm night air, Miroku could almost imagine that they were a normal couple out sharing a cup of vanilla ice cream, but then she would lean over a little and he would see the strap of her shoulder sling, and he'd be forced to remember that even though the flowery pattern of the dress and cut of it made Sango look like a normal student, she was still armed and loaded. "It's worth it to spend more time with you, Miroku."

"And here I was thinking I'd be giving you a treat, buying us ice cream. Aren't cats supposed to love milk?"

Sango smiled, digging her spon into the vanilla ice cream. "Cats are lactose intolerant, Miroku. I lvoe ice cream, though." She slowly leaned over and her boyfriend leaned in with a proud smirk, deliriously happy as they flirted with each other. "I love my boyfriend more, though."

He didn't have time to think about whether or not Sango meant that as her lips brushed his. She kissed him so sweetly he was sure she was telling the truth. How could a kiss like that be a lie? Her lips ran over his, slightly cold to the touch from the frozen delicacy. Her breath was sweet, and there was such innocence in the way her kiss was secure and closed-mouth that his whole body filled with the urge to hold her and explore her. Miroku reached over the table, brushing her cheek. She sighed and pressed closer, his tongue brushing her bottom lip with such tantalizing softness it was torture to feel and taste her.

She pulled back, blushing, and Miroku was amazed. He took a spoonful of ice cream for himself, regarding her with pride. They'd been dating for two years and there was still such appealing softness and innocence in Sango. She was sweet to the core. It kept Miroku from feeling jaded, still interested in their relationship, and it kept him from feeling like a monster. After he'd become aware of just how naive Sango was, he'd been nervous. He did have a reputation for being a heartbreaker, and he worried that Sango's wide-eyed smile and laughter might somehow become curropted by him, but instead it had been the other way around.

Rather than feel old and worn by the occasional pain in his heart and lungs, or the nightmares of vivisections that still made him wake up in a cold sweat sometimes, Sango had changed him. He smiled more like he used to, and he laughed mch more around her than everyone else. He found himself able to open up with her talk as easily as he was to flirt or just to breathe. Sango kept him feeling young, untouched by the passing time or the scars left on him, both physical and emotional.

And for two whole years, that was what had kept him out of her bed. He worried that sex would be the last thing, as if when Miroku bedded Sango, some miraculous transformation would be gone, and the tender little creature he'd discovered and adored underneath her muscle, and cold rationality and bark would disappear, like it never existed in the first place. He admired the persona Sango wore in public at the IBSP, and he respected the university chemistry student, but he loved the laughter and the smile hiding under it all. The question was, could they still have a relationship without ever becoming that intimate? No, not the kind of relationship Miroku was growing to want: the permanent kind, with two kids and a mortgage.

"You taste like vanilla," he purred, playing with his spoon. Sango blushed a shade deeper. "Sango... where do you think our relationship is going after so long?"

Pausing, Sango slowly scooped up more ice cream. "I'm not sure what you mean. I love you, Miroku. Why does it have to _go_ anywhere?"

He smiled at her and Sango was amused by how young it seemed in his face. Miroku was older than her, but sometimes when he smiled she had the distinct opinion that on the inside he was younger than her. When Miroku smiled at her like that, she knew he wanted to play. "I know where we could take the relationship."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you talking about sex?"

He wasn't but Sango didn't have to know that. Since _she_ had brought up the subject, Miroku decided to play along, enoying their verbal sparring. "Would it be so bad if I were?" he inquired. "It's been two years, Sango, and I've never... _asked_ for _any_ type of sexual gratification... minus a kiss now and then..."

"Last night, when we talked..."

He held up his hand and she stopped. Miroku smield warmly. "I'm not asking to take back what I said last night, Sango. I'll be honest. I want to have sex with you. However, I can wait." For a moment, a light blush appeard on his face. "You're worth waiting for, Sango. I'd wait until the end of the world for you, Sango, and by no means have I ever considered myself a patient man. I simply want to know, would you have... I mean, are you... would you be intimate with me?"

Miroku could not recall the last time that he had seen her blush so fiercely. Sango was staring at him, thinking. On the one hand, she wanted to. She wanted that intimicary--the spiritual aspect, not the phsyical act-. On the other hand, she was scared--of the physical act, not th spirirtual aspect. "Why do you ask?" she inquired, trying to stall.

"It's kind of a pre-requisite to something I have planned," he winked, reaching into his pocket for the ring-box. Sango was staring at im curiously, and Miroku's smile was almost infuriating, it was so... _planned_! She was actually nervous about answering.

"I... I don't know," she honestly forced out. Miroku flinched away and she followed, placing her hand over the one he'd laft laying on the wrought iron table. "I'll tell you something, Miroku. I've... on occasion, thought about having sex with you since... since that day in the library, or maybe the cafeteria..."

His eyes lit back up. "You have?"

Sango nodded. "When you read, your entire demeanor changes. Your smile disappears. Your body language ceases to be so carefree and becomes defensive to protect you from someone interrupting your reading. Your reading consumes you, and nothing can deterr you from it. Your book becomes your whole world. You envelop yourself in it, and rather than conume the book the way your body language suggests you should be, you draw it out. You derive pleasure from the wait of turning the page and seeing what happens next. You treat the book so gently. You deftly turn the page, careful not to rip it, and... there's such _carefulness_ and _attention_ whenever you read!" She smiled at him, holding back a giggle. "You're so enamored of literature, Miroku, you can't even tell when your glasses have slipped all the way down to the end of your nose and you're holding the book inches from your face to read properly."

He blushed, but did not interrupt. He liked very much the picture Sango was painting for him, and he wondered where it was going.

"I've often wondered, since then, what it would be like," she admitted with a scarlet-shaded face, "what it would be like to trade places with that book. What would it feel like to have all of you honed in one me like that, your hands on me, so careful and adept? Would I be scared? And I think no. No, you wouldn't make me scared, because I don't think you'd make sex scary. It would be intimate and slow... you wouldn't make it painful, because you'd never hurt me." Her eyes dipped down and he could feel her heart compete against remorse and anger. "When I was possessed... Shabranigdo found those thoughts. He laughed at me for them. He was I was... _frigid_ becaise I had rationalized you into my bed." She dug out another spoonful of ice cream to console herself.

"The idea of sex scares you?" Miroku asked softly. Sango nodded and Miroku's eyebrows lifted. This was something he'd never gotten to talk about her with. "Why?"

Sango shrugged. "I've heard the first time hurts. I've heard it's uncomfortable. But really... I think I'm scared because of how the media portrays it. Sure, they make it out to be fun, but they also make it out to appear incredibly violent, about power struggles and submission rather than about recreation, or procreation, or love. That's why it scared me when I was little. Now... it scares me for a different reason."

"What reason is that?"

"Because of you, Miroku. How many women have you slept with?" He quietly looked away. Sango pursed her lips, having expected the guilty reaction. She took another scoop of ice cream before she continued. "Before you, I lacked the experience of even hanging out on a couch and making out. I don't know how to please you. What do I do? Lay there? Is that what my role is? How do I touch you? What feels good for a man?" She sighed and her body lost the vivacity of a moment ago. "Now I'm scared that if we have sex, I won't know what to do. I worry that something I feel should intimate and pleasing will be fouled up because of my inexperience."

Sango reached across the table again, taking his hand in hers once more. "If... _when_ we have sex, Miroku, I want to make it as nice for you as I know you will for me. I want it to be a good experience for both of us."

He smiled at her. The ring was all but forgotten. "Sango, trust me. When the time comes, you will know what to do. It's... instinct. Do you think everyone knows what to do? Of course not, but we all have instincts. They'll kick in." He stroked the curve of her cheek with his thumb. "And you're anything but frigid, Sango. Shabranigdo could never understand the fire in you. You're more human than you think, Sango. Being nervous is natural, Sango... you make me nervous," he admitted.

"I do?"

With a hearty laugh, his smile blossomed with honesty. "Oh yes. You make me nervous, especially when it comes to sex. I..." He stopped talking, turning his face towards the boardwalk. His happiness was replaced by thick tension. "I can sense a demon in the area... ah!"

He sinced and at once Sango was out and up from her seat. Although Miroku no longer had visions, he was still a psychich due to his empathic abilities. He still had an extraordinairy ability to sense when a demon was nearby, particularly if they were psychics themselves, like vampires. She had never, however, seen him react this way, clutching his head and looking like he was about to be ill. She took hold of his shoulders gently. "Miroku? Come on, you pervert, talk to me..."

Miroku felt like he was being pulled into a black hole. When he had concentrated on his empathy after having felt the flickering aura of a powerful demon in the back of his mind, he had felt the alien mind--so much more older and wiser than his own--beginning to pull him in. It was so strong and powerful that Miroku's own thoughts and emotions left him. They were replaced with the feelings of the creature whose primal mind he felt: the desire for blood, the hunger. He could feel his stomac grumbling and Miroku gave himself over to it. Had the vampire been present, Miroku would have thrown himself into the black hole, surrendering himself to that ancient mind, and allowed himself to be bitten and his blood drunk. For a moment, Miroku knew the vampire's victim had also fallen prey to the black hole. He felt the raw hunger in his mind abed, the coppery taste of sweet blood filled his mouth---the sensation of the blooed on his tongue made Miroku jerk back his mind to his body. Cool, refreshing hands touched his face and he found himself looking into familiar, warm rbown-gold eyes.

"Sango..."

"It's a vampire, isn't it?" He nodded. He was already on the move, Sango hot on on his heels ashe led her in the vampire's direction. Sango growled. "I wish we'd found a way to perfect those wood-tipped bullets."

Vampires had been giving the IBSP the worst amount of trouble. Most of the demons Shabranigdo was bringing in were inhuman. They lived on the outskirts of town, and emerged only when they had to. They were like animals, aware of how they didn't fit in and hiding, killing only when they needed too. The vampires and the succubi, on the other hand, looked completely human. They enjoyed the killing. The killed for the enjoyment of killing, rather than whenever they need to feed. A normal bullet could kill a succubi--it just tended to take three or four in the chest to make them go down. The vampires, on the other hand, could only be killed by wood, just as the myths had stated. It didn't have to be through the heart. It was to vampires like arsenic to human. Breathing in wood dust could prove to be just as deadly--it simply took a long, painful time for them to die.

Urahara and the men under his command had been trying to figure out a way to use the wood to their edvantage. Garlic wouldn't work, so the bright-idea one of them had about using garlic oil to coat the bullets was as worthless as a toothpick in a pine forest. They had thought about using wood-dust filled bullets, but then it took an entirely clip to the head to bring the vampire down, and even then, they weren't dead. They'd just lost the ability to walk from the poison infiltrating their systems. They'd also tried wood-tipped bullets, like the silver-tipped bullets used to kill traitorous shifters or werewolves, but they didn't work. Something about peircing and cumbustion rendered them rather useless.

The only other way left to kill a vampire was to behead them. Since a katane was slightly harder to mask then a gun, it was nigh impossible to kill a vampire without the event being a planned hunt.

"We'll just scare him off," Miroku consoled her, breaking into a worry-bred jog. "Keep him from killing anyone. Get his scent, get his aura... hell, we can try to mug him and steal his wallet to get his id. I just don't want him to kill anyone."

Sango, as they approached, could feel the vampire as well. His presence was like a bright light in her field of vision, annoyingly hiding in the corner of her eye, making her aware of something that should not be there, but was. Soon, she could smell it, adns he snarled at the scent. She could tell it was coming from a dark alleyway just off of the boardwalk. She could smell human blood, and she recognized the scent of the vampire with a gut wrenching anger borne from revenge. Sango's job broke out into a sprint as she bolted ahead of Miroku, silent on killing the demon before he could finish his meal. She had claws and death and a gun. If needs be, she'd use them to rip off his head.

She skidded to a stop when she saw them. The purple-haired man clung to a pretty little girl about Sango's age. The girl's eyes were half-closed and rather life-less, but she wasn't dead yet. Sango pulled her gun from her shoulder strap, pointing it at the vampire. "Drop the girl, Xellos!"

He looked up, blinking, and appeared surprise. His blood-stained mouth slowly pulled into a smile. "Ah, Tora Sango... look at you in that cute little dress... out playing jailbait again, tiger?"

She pulled off the safety. She meant business. "Drop the girl, Xellos!"

Xellos. He'd been a mole implanted into the IBSP by Rezo. Two years ago he'd run out of the place, pursued by Abarai Renji, the man in charge of security in the IBSP. Renji had trakced him down as best he could. One of the best trackers in the IBSP, it had been Xello's unique power to teleport himself that had made Renji lose the trail. Since then, apparently theman had gone out and gotten himself turned into a vampire.

Xellos smirked. His smile was mischievous, reminding Sango terribly of Miroku's. Seeing her love's smile on that of a vampire's made her skin crawl. Sango watched as Xellos lifted the girl by her blonde hair, holding her a foot of the ground before he mercilessly dropped her. She struck the ground without breaking her fall. Sango glanced down at the body. The girlwas still breathing, if unconscious now. "I meant that you were supposed to drop her gently!"

"Then why didn't you say so, Sango-chan? You're not really very good at this police stuff, are you? Come on. I used to work with you! Couldn't you have just said 'please put the girl down gently, Xellos?' Then I would have indeed put the girl down gently. It's the 'please' that gets you place, Sango. You can't point a gun at me and simply expect to do whatever you order me to."

Sango was affronted by the idea that she was a bad cop. "Bite me, Rezo!"

"Apparently I stand corrected." Before Sango knew it, Xellos was coming at her, grinning and revealing long, pointed teeth. "I'll bite you, Sango. I think that the blood will taste a little gross. It would be far too much like drinking my own blood, what with you being half-demon, but I think you're human enough for it to be satisfying." He shrugged. "Even if it's not, watching you submit will be."

Before she could order her body to aim and pull the trigger, Xellos stopped moving. He was glaring past Sango—over her left shoulder, in fact. He sneered, his fangs retreating. "Two of you… I forgot you all travel in pairs now, don't you?"

Sango could feel Miroku behind her. He was wheezing a little, but he seemed perfectly fine. "You okay, Sango?" she heard him ask as he stepped closer to her.

"Yeah… he didn't try anything. Xellos is apparently all talk."

The man in question smirked again. "I can guarantee you that I'm not, Sango-chan. I simply do not think that it is appropriate for me to bite you when your partner is here. Live to bite another day, apparently." He turned on his heels and ran.

"Hey! Xellos! Get back here! You're under arrest!" Sango shoved her gun back in her strap and ran after him. She could hear footsteps following her. Miroku was hot on her heels as well. She glanced over her shoulder, yelling at him. "Go back and look after he girl! I can track him!"

"Yeah, but I can't," he yelled back. She had to give him credit for being able to keep pace with her. "Call me callous," he smiled at her, "but if you get away from me, you're on your own and I'd prefer to make sure that my girlfriend is okay rather than some stranger."

She flashed him a kind smile as they burst from the alleyway and on to the busy sidewalk. Sango checked both ways before she high-tailed it across the street. She could follow that vampire till the ends of the earth—he stank enough for it. Miroku never wavered as he followed her flawlessly. Sango's feet pounded against the pavement, propelling her forward, but she dodged the crowds around her nimbly.

Miroku was more light-footed than she, exercising caution and awareness over speed. He would follow Sango, and could follow her as far as she could track Xellos. Her mind stood out in a crowd, fierce and wild underneath a calm exterior. As he followed her he seemed to know where people would be before they knew themselves, and he dodged them gracefully. Sango grinned, realizing that he knew where they were because she had already seen them. He was traveling in the wake she was making, she realized, vaulting over a dog as she continued to track Xellos. It was like she was a wave, cresting in the ocean, and Miroku was a dolphin playing in the path she had forged for him. It was, she thought joyously, like a game.

She would have loved to see exactly how far this game could go, but they had to catch Xellos. He was dangerous to leave unchecked in the city. After all, the man had been able to get away from the head of the IBSP's security department, Abarai Renji! Still, Sango couldn't help but be aware of Miroku trailing behind her. It was like a dance, the way they moved through the crowded. It reminded her of being eight years old and at her first sakura-blossom festival, sitting on a low tree branch and watching the pink flowers tumble in the wind, playing with it, playing in and on it and rushing through it, rushing through the other soft pink petals, two petals, playing with each other, and rushing, racing, catching, evading…

'Sango!' she mentally snapped at herself. 'Concentrate at the task at hand! Find Rezo! You can think romantic thoughts later! Since when did you become such a romantic thinker, Tora Sango? I'm almost ashamed to be in you! You have a job to do! Do it!'

Sango skidded to a stop at the corner of another alleyway. Xellos' scent had changed. He was ahead of her… parallel to her, but…

"What is it?" Miroku panted, coming up behind her. She glanced at him, and temporarily dismissed Xellos. Miroku's cheeks were dark pink and he was breathing heavily. She could already see him reaching for his puffer to help ease his breathing. Sango didn't bother asking him to stop and sit down and relax. Miroku wouldn't do that, and he would be bothered that she asked. Sango tried to shrug off her worry, but she couldn't. Instead, she reached out and took his wrist, trying to drive her point home.

"Your heart-beat is erratic," she pointed out. He pulled his hand back from her.

"I'm just breathing heavily. It's nothing."

Dubious, Sango decided to let the subject go, though her worry refused to be so easily abated. Miroku was only human. Miroku was human. He only had so many heartbeats. Putting his cardiovascular system through such strain was only going to make things worse for him later on. How much strain did one missed beat put on his heart? Did the number of missed beats coincide to the number of beats Miroku's heart would lose before it ran out of energy?

"Xellos went up… there must be a staircase down here somewhere," she said, entering the dim alleyway. Miroku followed, trying to keep his breathing down so that she'd stop pestering him. "He's stopped running. He must be trying to hide."

"Great, then I have a small period in which to talk with you," he said, shoving his puffer back away. His blue eyes, even in the dim light of the alleyway, were clearly visible. His voice was tight. Miroku was moody, and Sango didn't need three guesses to figure out why his knickers had gotten into a twist. "Why do you always have to be so worried of me if I fall behind or I need to take a break?"

"Because I'm your girlfriend." Sango pointed out as she looked up at the emergency stairs Rezo must have used. The bottom rung was about ten feet up in the air. It was almost twice Sango's height. She didn't know if she could jump that far, straight up. Miroku was being silent and she turned to look at him. "Was that not the right answer?"

"Actually, it's a little painful because I think it's the right one." He shook his head. "Sango, just because you care about me and vice versa, it doesn't mean that you have to worry about me. It should also mean that you should trust me not to push my body. And it should also mean that when I say that I'm going to help you track down a goddamn criminal to make sure that pervert doesn't molest or kill you, you don't start babying me, but accept my help!"

She flinched as his voice reached shouting proportions. "I do not baby you… look, Miroku, can we have this argument later? I'd really like to catch Xellos. I don't think I can jump up, but if you can lift me, then I can climb up and release the stair well to let you up."

Miroku wasn't about to fight that logic. Already he regretted using that choice of words. Sango didn't baby him; she just worried about him. He worried about her too. That was why he was helping her chase down a criminal, after all. Miroku nodded and bent to pick her up, but she stopped him.

"No groping, either."

Somehow, he managed to smile. "Sango… at a time like this? What do you think I am? A lecher?" But when he picked her up, he groped her anyway.

"Jerk." Sango glared down at him and he smiled up innocently. Sango strained to reach the bottom rung. It was wet from the night's dampness, and she made a face. As her hand closed around it and the other hand swung up, she smiled. Sango enjoyed the physical exercise, and she liked the fact that even though they had been dating for two years, he still flirted with her. The problem was…

Sango didn't chose to finish that thought. She rotated her shoulders to catch her knees on the bottom wrung. For a second, she swung upside down before she used her stomach and leg muscles to propel herself up. Now her whole body rested on the fire escape.

On the ground, Miroku was scratching her head, trying to decipher what had happened. "Show off," he teased, watching Sango climb up the ladder. He had to admit, he had a great view from down below…

Sango glanced over her shoulder at him. "Nonsense. That was the fastest way for me to get up. Even as a half-demon, I don't have very good upper-body strength. It comes with being a female, not from being half-human. We just don't have the broad shoulders to support a lot of weight. Now, my legs and my stomach, on the other hand, is a different matter entirely." She'd reached the first platform and lowered the ladder for Miroku to climb up. "That would be the reason, Miroku, why I have that ass you so like to grope."

They climbed the ladder in silence. As soon as they got to the roof, Xellos saw them and cursed, bolting again. He had no other choice in the direction to go. He could not jump from the roof to the street, nor could he jump across the street. All he could do was run to the next building, and continue along the roofs until he was able to lose them or put some space between them.

Sango cursed. "Damnit… he's running again!" She vaulted from the top of the fire escape after Xellos. Miroku was not far behind her. While neither Xellos nor Sango thought twice about the leap across to the next roof, Miroku did not have the benefit of their speed or muscle.

"Ranma is never going to believe I'm doing this," he groaned. Miroku took a running leap from the building. For a split second be thought he had failed to make the jump, but then his body tumbled on to the next roof. Miroku glanced back, smiling in triumph. There was no doubt in his mind he could make the next jump as well.

With another running leap, he made it on to the next roof. His heart was pounding and his lungs ached, but he thought it was exhilarating. He seemed to fly over the rooftops, leaping over air conditioning units or chimneys and vaulting over the gaps between the houses. What worried him his not the heartbeat in his chest, but the gap he can see approaching them. The line of buildings ended soon. Xellos was leading them.

Trouble didn't strike until the second last building. Miroku had almost pushed himself off before he realized how long the jump was. Sango was already scrambling up the tilted roof of the last building of the street, chasing after Xellos. The jump was twice what Miroku had been previously jumping. Sure, he'd been making those jumps without any problem at all, but this was a pretty far jump, and on to a shingled, slanted roof.

Sango was still chasing after Xellos… He _had_ to do it. Miroku hurried back to the far side of the roof to get a running leap. He could feel his sensuous mouth pinching into a tight line out of his sheer determination. If he didn't make it, he'd fall and crash to the ground. If he didn't make it, Sango would continue to try and catch Xellos and he might be able to take her. The sheer idea of Sango falling victim to a vampire, having her blood being drunk against her will and turned into some mindless source of food filled his whole body with strength. Yes, he _had_ to do it. There was no room for failure!

Miroku ran and leapt. Again, for a moment he was filled with uncertainty as he felt gravity's heavy hand trying to pull him back to earth. He didn't think he had made it. Chills ran up his back as he realized that he hadn't been able to make it after all. He was going to miss landing on the roof…

But just barely. Miroku's body slammed into the edge of the roof, and he struggled to get some grip on the shingles as he felt his body start to slide off. His feet struggled to press against the roof of the building and take some of the strain off his burning arms, but to no avail. His tried to call out to Sango, but with his body hunched over the metal drain pipe, his stomach burned when he tried to speak. _Shit… God, I wish I were a telepath! Shit…_ It didn't just hurt to try and speak. It hurt to breathe!

"Miroku!" Sango was coming back on her own. She skidded down the shingles, and he could see abrasions forming on her pretty legs. Sango braced herself on the roof as she wrapped an arm around his wrist. "I got you. Hold back on to me, Miroku. I don't want to accidentally snap your wrist trying to lift you up."

He released the hand she held, wrapping his own hand around her wrist. He could see how much of a struggle it was for her to try and lift him up. He helped, for what he could. Finally, he was laying on the roof, only his knees still hanging over the edge. He looked up into Sango's weary face, surprised to see a light shine of sweat on her forehead. He wasn't the only one pushing himself.

"Sango," he croaked. His throat was dry and it hurt to speak, but he worked around it. He didn't want Sango to see how tired he was. Each syllable made his arm want to lay across his stomach to protect him, as if the ache he felt with each breath came from outside his body. "I'm worried. He's leading us towards the docks…"

"Yeah, I know, but it will be as dangerous for him as it will be for us. He may think he can hide there," she grinned, helping Miroku to his feet, "but he won't. I can smell him out. Plus, the docks are closed right now. That means that we're free to fight him…" She paused, watching Xellos sprint towards the docks. "I'm going after him. Call the others. We're going to need reinforcements to bring Xellos in."

Sango was after Xellos… again. Miroku called the others before starting to make it down the emergency fire escape. Sango was lucky at being half demon. The building was three floors high, and Sango had been able to jump from the building at the second floor without causing herself injury. Miroku knew he'd have to climb all the way to the bottom, costing him precious time.

When he got to the ladder at the bottom, he began coughing, trying to catch his breath. He coughed so hard that his hand slipped. Before Miroku could catch himself, he fell the rest of the way. He could tell when he struck the ground from the pain, rather than the sound of the impact. Lightning flashed behind his closed eyes, emanating from his chest. He stood up on shaking arms, bracing one against his chest. Miroku glanced around and then rather nervously lifted his shirt. Across his chest, from the impact against the roof, lay a bruise quickly turning black and blue.

Miroku groaned when he saw it. Closing his eyes he gingerly pressed his fingers against his side. Yeah, that definitely hurt more. As he wasn't in tears yet from the sheer act of breathing, Miroku guessed that his ribs were just tender and bruised and not broken.

Ignoring the stitches in his side, Miroku hurried to catch up to Sango. He traveled quickly and silently. The grey cement floor and the towers of carts waiting to be loaded on to the next out-bound ship made the dock a ghostly and empty place. There were, as Miroku had predicted, plenty of places for Xellos to hide. Miroku didn't need to use psychic powers to tell where Sango and Xellos were. He could already hear them fighting.

He ran around a corner to see Xellos strike Sango hard in her temple—hard enough to send her down to her knees from the momentum and the impact. Watching her fall made Miroku skid to a stop, a strange feeling come upon him. He felt strangely calm, considering he'd just seen as girlfriend get hit. Watching Xellos kick Sango, sending her body skidding away from their fight, made the calm feeling turn frigid.

"Get away from her!" He launched himself on Xellos' back, but the vampire was too quick. He spun and caught Miroku in the midst of his tackle. For the second time that evening, Miroku's body slammed into the ground from an expertly-delivered drop kick aimed in the center of his back. The pain when his chest struck the ground made him want to vomit. He was just lucky that he could still feel his toes; he Xellos struck his back with any more accuracy, he was liable to have broken Miroku's spine.

Coughing, his tear-filled eyes made him blind as Xellos delivered a powerful kick to Miroku's side. The asphalt tore at his skin as he rolled with the kick, stopping against one of the many metal crates which made up the boundaries on the fight.

Sango was back on her feet. She kicked at Xellos and managed to almost catch him. Miroku watched, struggling to get to his feet, as their punches and kicks thundered through the air. It was no wonder he hadn't been able to even touch Xellos; he was too fast. He was faster than Sango. Although holding her own, Miroku could see the bruises from punches she'd been too slow to dodge or counter.

He was rising to his feet as Sango growled, launching out a punch aimed for Xellos' neck. He dodged, but barely, because he was too busy reacting. Xellos'shands came up and grabbed her punch, redirect her energy as he spun into it, throwing Sango over his shoulder. Miroku watched as she struck a metal crate hard enough to warp it. His heart broke to hear her cry out, and her body was motionless when it struck ground.

Xellos turned to smile at Miroku. "All that's left now is the little psychic… do you really think you can hurt me, Miroku?"

He didn't. If _Sango_ hadn't been able to hurt Xellos, then Miroku knew he wouldn't be able to land a punch either, but he had to try. Their fight only lasted one strike. Xellos simply reached out, grabbing Miroku's side and making him cry out in pain. He could feel Xellos' mind trying to wrap around his, a black hole sucking in all of Miroku's thoughts to keep him from lashing out. His arms and legs were paralyzed…

Sweat ran down his cheeks, but Miroku could not dry them. Let Xellos think he was the stronger psychic. Miroku knew he could never win a physical battle, so let Xellos think he had the upper hand psychically. He kept his arms and legs still, just as Xellos' mind was telling his to do.

One hand remained near the ribs, ready to touch them again to hear him cry our. The other was already pulling at Miroku's shirt, pulling hard enough to rip the material.He grabbed Miroku's rat-tail, pulling it down to expose Miroku's throat. Miroku didn't know how much longer he could remain still. It was one thing to remain docile when Xellos was simply standing there; it was another thing to keep from fighting back when his tongue licked Miroku's neck.

"I've gotten hungry from this fight, Miroku…" Xellos' hand squeezed the wound again. Miroku wondered how he even knew that his ribs were injured as he cried out again, biting his tongue to keep from crying out a third time. "Humans are so fragile. I could break your rib with just a little bit of extra pressure. I could leave you here to drown in your own blood and you could watch me take Sango. I've watched her grow up, Miroku. She's beautiful, isn't she? Would you still want her as much as you do now if you knew she'd been food for the base pleasures of a vampire, hm?"

His teeth were chattering from unearthly cold. "Fuck you, Xellos!'

"Beg for me to spare her life, to take you instead." Miroku was silent. Xellos' eyes flashed with insanity. "Beg, boy!"

Miroku hated himself. After all the hearts he'd broken, all the callous things he'd said and all the painful times he'd put his parents through as a teenager, like getting his ears pierced recklessly one night, never had he ever hated himself so much as he did then. His body _was_ weak and feeble. If he was a half-demon, like Sango, then he could have at least _tried_ to defend himself. As a human, he had to wait for Xellos to be so consumed to miss the gun Miroku would be pointing at his chest.

"Please…"

"Say it like you mean it!"

He could see Sango stirring behind Xellos. Her dark hair seemed to meld into the night as her bruised face appeared. Her wide eyes were staring at the scene, but she was still too groggy to really know what was happening. He could see the blood running over her pointed ear. She shouldn't move! Couldn't she feel the blood? She could have a concussion!

"Please, leave Sango alone…"

She could hear him. Her eyes widened when she heard his words. She knew what Miroku was doing. He couldn't help the way he loved Sango. He would die to keep her alive, and even after two years that had not changed. Slowly, her shock turned into anger, and it was directed at Miroku. He could understand it. She hated him for being so willing to lay his life down for her. Didn't she understand? This was just a trap! He wasn't going to die!

Xellos smiled, rejoicing. He squeezed Miroku's side again, making him cry out. Behind him, Sango was struggling to move. As the pain lessened, Miroku's dim eyes were pleading to her, asking her to stay put. She paused, understanding and trusting him—and it made his heart swell. Then she began trying to rush Xellos when she saw his fangs lengthen and he dove for Miroku's neck.

Sango screamed. She didn't scream at Xellos lunging for Miroku, but at the sound of the gun going off. Blood erupted in a shower and for a second Sango was confused as to who had just been shot. Was the blood Miroku's? But as the red haze cleared, she could see the gaping wound in Xellos' back. The demon was shivering in pain, and released Miroku to stagger back. Miroku's gun had been pressed against his chest when he had pulled the trigger. Blood leaked down his chest. Xellos' could see his own blood splattered across Miroku's pale oxford shirt and his remorseless face.

"But… but…" Ah, it hurt to speak! Xellos didn't waste his energy. The pain was too great. Concentrating everything he had left in him, he prepared himself to jump—to use all his energy to travel from point A to point B in a bust of speed. He disappeared, simply vanishing into nothingness.

Sango finished getting up, rushing to Miroku. He seemed to be in shock from what he had done and jumped when she touched him. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" he countered, putting his gun back in the holster hidden under his blazer. His other hand gently touched the side of her head. Sango followed it to feel her blood underneath her own fingers.

"Yeah. But you… what was he doing to you?" Her hands were pulling at his blood-splattered shirt before he could stop them. Sango gasped when she saw the bruise stretching across his mid-section. "Miroku… is this from when you fell?"

He nodded. "It's nothing… ow, shit!"

"Like hell it's nothing! Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you stop?"

"Because then he would have killed you!" he shouted back. Sango's face went red at his words. She knew he was right. God only knew what would have happened after she'd been thrown into the crate and knocked out. It was a brief span of time, but it would have been enough for Xellos to bite her, or lash her down, or run away… or grab her own gun and shoot her… or break her kneck… the list went on.

Sango crossed her arms. That still didn't make his own recklessness acceptable, no matter how well-justified it may have been! "Do you want me to thank you?" She felt him reach out and cup her rear suggestively and she spun on him. She was too mad to even bother slapping him for that one, not when she couldn't control her own anger. "Seriously, Mrioku! What did you want out of this? A thank you? A free grope?"

"I wanted to make sure that my girlfriend stayed alive!"

Sango ignored the rush of pleasant emotion from her heart. She needed to drive her point home. "Maybe it's not worth it when you might get hospitalized or become a liability because you can't keep up with me!"

"It is to me!"

"Well not to me! I don't want to have to lay there and watch you nearly die on me again, Miroku! I am so sick and tired of being held back by you on missions! You can't push yourself as much as I can!"

His face was dark. "Yes, I can," he growled.

"No, you can't! You're not as strong as me, not as fast! I can survive a hell of a beating and come out with just a few bruises, Miroku! You can't! You should stop being so worried about protecting me and start worrying about protecting yourself! Just because I may be shorter, or younger, or female, it doesn't make me the weaker one in this relationship, Miroku! That's you! You're the weak one! You're the human! Stop trying to be a hero and take care of yourself for once!"

There was silence. It took Sango a moment to realize just what she had said. As soon as she said it, she regretted it. It was the truth. Miroku was human. He was physically weaker than she, but it hadn't needed to be said like that.

"So that's really how you feel…" she heard him mumble.

Sango's mouth tasted bitter. "You are a liability to me, Miroku, because I love you and I cannot always trust you to be able to hold your own when we fight." There as another round of pregnant silence before Sango hear him moving away. He was shuffling his feet. Miroku was exhausted. She turned to him, worried. "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking your advice. I'm going to go and look after my wounds. Akane will be here soon. She can drive you home."

It hurt to see him walking away. "Miroku, I don't want… I didn't mean to fight!" she cried, trying to amend the situation.

"Neither do I. That's why I'm walking away." It was impossible to ignore the emotional burden in his voice.

Somehow, Sango was able to keep her tears until Akane came and she was safe and at home in her bed.

* * *

To be Continued... 


	8. The Nemeses

Chapter Seven: The Nemeses

Akane could not recall the last time she had seen Sango so distraught. Even after Sango had tasted human flesh and blood, the blood and fleshshared byher mother and uncle and her best friend, she had not been so consumed with self-hatred and pain. Nor, Akane bitterly recalled, had her cheeks been so stained by tears.

"How could I have said that to him, Akane-chan?" she sobbed into her pillow. Akane moved to sit by Sango on the bed, brushing her friend's long dark hair. She didn't know what to say, and she could scarcely imagine what it would feel like to be accused of being weak because she was human. Sure, Ranma accused her of being weak all the time, but all she had to do was punch him, just once, and he'd leave her alone for the next few days. Herefused to acknowledge, most of the time, the bruise forming on his shoulder or arm. Sango had accused Miroku, on the other hand, of being inferior to her because he was completely human. There was a small difference between a taunt and an inferiority Miroku hadn't needed pointed out in such a cold manner.

"How can he ever forgive me for saying that?"

"Did you mean it, Sango?" she asked quietly. Sango's silence was answer enough. She'd meant it, every word. Akane's voice shook slightly. "Tell me… am I weak because I'm human?"

"No," Sango admitted. She sat up to look at Akane. "You're not weak, even though you're human. I can fight with you and I can still remain confident that you're going to carry your own."

"Then why is Miroku any different? He might not be as good as a fighter as I am, but he's a better shot, and smarter, and much better at defensive fighting. Miroku can take a lot. You should know that from sparring against him, Sango."

She appeared angry. "I do know that, Akane! I've fought against him enough times to know that Miroku can take a hit or block a punch, but what happens when it's something he can't fight? He can't block claws Akane! Miroku can't fight the things we're fighting now! And he doesn't know when to stop, Akane! He'll wear his body down taking hits, being defensive to protect me or others… he doesn't seem to care what he puts his body through!"

Akane was silent for a moment. She needed perfect concentration to steer the conversation the way she wanted to. "If that's how you really feel, Sango, then maybe you should break up with Miroku," she suggested. Akane felt Sango jump at the idea, but she continued. "You guys are fighting a lot, lately. You can't seem to trust him, and you do worry about him a lot, Sango. Maybe you two should just break up and you can save yourself the trouble over worrying over him and hurting whenever he gets hurt, ne, Sango?"

"I can't do that! I love him!"

Akane jumped off the bed, crossing her arms and staring down at her friend. "Then it seems you have a bit of a problem, don't you? Obviously, Sango, you need to rethink your options! Either accept that he's human and accept that Miroku is like that, or break it off and love him from afar! You can't keep pushing him away whenever he fights because he loves you, and accepting him whenever it's convenient!"

Sango's eyes flashed gold. She was getting madat what Akane was saying, but as of late, it had been the truth, hadn't it? She accepted Miroku whenever they weren't fighting. As soon as fighting broke out, all she could think of was the frailty of his own body, or worry every time he coughed. Sure, she worried over Akane was well, but Sango had trained for years with Akane. The two of them could watch each other's backs and fight in perfect unison…

She was calming down the more she reflected on it. "I don't fight with Miroku." Akane gave her a look that said she was lying. "No, not like that. When Miroku and I fight, we don't do it in unison, the way you and I or you and Ranma do…" It dawned on her when she trailed off, deep in thought. "We need to learn to think as partners, Akane! When we fight, I think of him as my boyfriend still. That's why he was so much easier to work with him before we were dating. Back then, he was just some guy I had to work with. Back then I didn't care what happened to him."

Grinning, Sango dove underneath the covers with a broad smile. "Thanks for talking to me, Akane. Now I know what I have to do."

Yawning out of exhaustion, she asked what it was.

"First thing tomorrow, I'm going to apologize. When he's ready, I want to suggest that we start training together, so that we can rely on each other's strengths and protect each other's weaknesses, the way you and Ranma have learned to do. That way, I won't have to worry about him so much because I'll know exactly what he _can_ do, what he _will_ do, what he _is_ doing, and what _I_ should do as a response." She reached over and turned off the night lamp on the stand by her bed. "Good night, Akane."

Akane smiled. "Good night, Sango."

* * *

Suichiro knocked on Kikyou's door gently. When he heard her say enter, he came in cautiously, ruffling up his dark hair. He knew she liked it a little bit disheveled, and hopefully he'd be able to curb her anger by appearing attractive. When he entered, she was sitting hunched over a desk, chewing absentmindedly on the lid of her pen as she worked out her financial situation. It was, he suspected, a habit she had retained from Kagome's personality. It was hard to imagine a god-like demon having the bad habit of chewing on pen lids. 

Maybe that was why, day after day, he continued to find himself so amazed by her. Normally, Suichiro would have gotten bored with a woman after two years; particularly when the woman was older than he, as opposed to some sweet-faced young thing. With Kikyou he found everything he'd ever wanted: they switched roles in the bed as easily as he could switch clothes, she was strong, and with every new thing she learned she continued to perfect it. Of course, it also helped she was indescribably beautiful. With her long-lashed eyes and full, sweet mouth she hardly seemed to house a vengeful and dangerous demon. No, she looked young and attractive. It was the kind of a face for a blushing virgin bride rather than a demon who abused the ideas of sex and sexuality to feed and enforce her followers.

God, even just trying to work out finances made Kikyou attractive. He couldn't help but admire the way her long black hair spilled over her shoulders, a slight natural wave at the bottom, or the way her long legs were crossed, or the muscles in her back, or the way her lips looked as she chewed away.

She didn't acknowledge him. Suichiro walked up behind her, rubbing her shoulders, and he felt her relax. The pen dropped from her grasp as she leaned against him, letting out a soft moan of surprise. "Mm, that feels good…"

"I have some bad news…"

Like a little kid, she turned enough to wrap her arms around his torso. Her nose was buried in his chest, her breath assaulting his skin through the silk of his shirt. "Mm, can't it wait? This feels really good…"

He smiled, and leaned down to kiss her cool dark hair. "I know it does. I promise, m'lady, I'll give you another back rub." His dark eyes twinkled. "I'll give you a full body one, my love, as soon as we take care of this business."

She yawned, releasing him. "All right, but I'm holding you to your word, lover. What's the matter now? It's a full moon tonight… the wolves have been locked up so they don't run rampant tonight, correct?" He nodded. "Good. I don't want them attacking our own people accidentally. It's best to wait until the time is right to release my bloodthirsty footmen…" She laughed heartily, running her graceful finger along Suichiro's sculpted cheek. "So what's the bed news then, lover?"

"Well, I have some good news as well…"

"Let's have the bad news first. Maybe the god news will cheer me up afterwards." Her blue eyes were laughing, but her lips were set into a thin, serious line.

Suichiro sighed. "Xellos is back, m'lady."

"Did he complete his mission?"

"I don't know. He's seriously injured. A gunshot wound to his chest blew out a large portion of lungs and back muscle. He's getting patched up now to prevent further deterioration of his power or blood or muscle structure. He says that _Miroku _was the one who shot him."

Her eyes narrowed at Miroku's name. She inhaled, a hiss of a air like a cat about to strike. Suichiro shifted nervously. It wasn't Miroku's name that had gotten Kikyou angry, but wondering why Xellos, sent to infiltrate the higher computer systems of the IBSP, should have come in contact with Miroku in the first place. They had, of course, replaced the moles they'd lost in the IBSP, and none of them were high enough clearance yet to dig into the real goings-on of the bureau, but still, none of the rumors had said anything about Miroku getting a raise into security-clearance areas or computer systems…

"And exactly _how_ did our local teleportationist get _shot_ by Miroku?"

"I think you'd better ask him that yourself."

* * *

Xellos was laying on a couch, blood pooling into the fabric from the wound in his chest. He lay on his stomach, keeping the weight off the hole in his back. When he heard the door open and felt Shabranigdo's presence he began to sit up. Suichiro's hand grabbed his upper arm, helping him to stand none-too-gently. Xellos managed to keep from showing the pain as he all but dangled off the ground. When he saw Kikyou, he stopped thinking about the throbbing, nauseating pain in his chest. 

She was smiling at him—that was a good sign. God, she had the face of an angel and a body that could tempt even the purist of monks into breaking vows of chastity. What he would give to once again be under her writhing body, feeling her blood fill his mouth as she changed him into a vampire… she had a neck so tempting it could drive a man insane to be forced to keep his distance from sinking his fangs into the smooth, gently throbbing veins encased in that neck…

"I'm sorry to hear about your injury. Did you get the information?"

"Yes.The Fanel-Kanzaki file information is copied on the memory stick," he grinned, and pulled the USB key from his pocket. "It was beautiful, m'lady. You should have seen it! In and out in trouble or time whatsoever. They never even realized I've put a permanent tap on their computer."

"A… _tap_? As in a faucet? How could they not notice that?" she queried, raising an eyebrow.

Suichiro gently corrected her. "Not a faucet, love. A tap means that he changed the program into it, giving us a code to let us into the computer. With it, we can access the information they enter into the computer. We'll be able to access whatever is on their networking system."

"I see… a tap. Well done, Xellos. I don't recall having asked you to do that, but it seems a promising way of gathering information. You have already explained to Suichiro how to access the information through this tap you put into their system?"

He nodded and she smiled at him. She leaned in. She smelled faintly of blood and sweat, but underneath that she smelled of roses and flowers. The intoxicating mingling of juvenile flowers and the demonic tang of the blood and sweat was alluring. Xellos closed his eyes, drinking in the scent with heavy longing. Only now that he was near her, smelling her and seeing her, did he truly feel at ease.

"Still, Xellos, if no one saw you then it doesn't explain how you became so injured," she clucked, wiping a trail of blood from his chest. The shirtless man shuddered at the delicacy of her touch. "And by Miroku, no less. Tell me, how ever did you catch up to my nemesis?"

Xellos shifted nervously. His arm stung and his chest gave a gasping wave of pain. Despite his nervousness, he decided it would be better to remain still. "I stopped to feed along the way… I know I should have come back here immediately after finishing my assignment, but she was there, so lovely, and I couldn't help it."

"Who was there?" Kikyou's blue eyes flashed dangerously, for a moment turning ferocious silver before appearing normal again. Her voice was slowly rising. "Who was there, Xellos? Was it Sango? Was that how Miroku appeared?" He didn't answer and she reached out, gripping the sides of his head and forcing him to look at her.

The moment his gaze met hers, it was like a connection had been established. Shabranigdo, so much stronger than him, kept his eyes locked on hers. He was unable to look away, and instead fell into their blue depths. So blue; so pretty; he was drowning in blue.

There was a sudden wave of pain in his mind… no, not his mind. In Xellos. It felt like his mind, but it ricochet and continued into the very depths of being. It felt like his mind was being sawed in two by a red hot poker. Tears leaked from his dazed, unblinking eyes as Shabranigdo clutched his head, digging her nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood. His lips parted as if to scream, but instead she released him.

Suichiro nodded, understanding. He dropped Xellos to the ground. The man cried out when he struck ground, but neither of the other two people in the room cared. "Well?" Kikyou's lover inquired.

"It wasn't Sango, just saw young student he saw out at night and thought he'd take advantage of. However, it seems Miroku and Sango were in the vicinity. One of them, it seems, has the ability to be able to sense out the location of vampires."

"Any idea as to which one?"

Kikyou shrugged. "Either of them could do it. Miroku with his empathy is a logical candidate. Sango too, because of superior senses. She was also my host, if only for a brief time. She may be better attuned to when _my_ creations are present. We will have to use the tap on the computers to hack into their personal fires. There may be some clue there.Our nemesesgave chase. And then our wonderful friend, Xellos, after having knocked out Sango and thinking her down for the count, proceeded to try and bite Miroku. Isn't that right, Xellos?" The man was too busy gasping in pain to answer. Kikyou kicked him in the ribs in his injured side. She gave him a moment for the groans and gasps to stop before she sweetly asked again. "Isn't that right, Xellos?"

This time Xellos nodded fervently, clutching his side protectively.

"Why did you do that, Xellos? I've staked my claim on them. Everyone knows that."

"I… I'd used a lot of energy… I only wanted enough to make it away!"

"And what if it killed him, Xellos? What if you became caught up in bloodlust? What if you couldn't stop? What if he died after you left him? Hm? What then, Xellos? I'd be stuck in this dying human body! That's what would happen! I would never be able to change bodies again until this one was old and nearly dead! You will _not_ go after Miroku again, Xellos? Do you understand me?"

Xellos was flinching as she yelled at him. She kicked him again and he cried out. "Yes! Yes! I get it, Kikyou!"

"I never gave you permission to use my name!" THUD! She kicked him again. Again, he cried out, begging forgiveness. At once she dropped down to her knees, cradling his injured body in her arms. "Oh, Xellos… I'm sorry I had to be so tough on you. You served me well and faithfully for more than the past two years. Before I could reward you, when I was no more than a name or a concept passed around in promising circles, you served me well. I forgive you, Xellos. You will never do that again, will you?"

He smiled wearily, looking up into her pretty face. "No, m'lady. Miroku and the tiger-shifter are both yours: your claim and your prey. I regret ever having forgotten that, m'lady."

"Good." She leaned down, kissing his lips. He gasped at the sensation. She tasted a little of sweet, foreign fruit. Her lips were soft and delicate. His eyes closed as she kissed him. He did not see it as she lifted her head, her sharp teeth grazing her full bottom lip. Slowly, her lips descended on his neck. Xellos shuddered with pleasure, remembering eagerly the way she had felt surrounding him, the way her sweet, delicious blood had filled his mouth as he drank from her breast the blood which had turned him into a vampire.

Her teeth punctured the skin of neck with surprising dexterity and skill. His blood ran from him, and he heard her as she made pleased, sucking noises. His body felt tingly. Xellos was happy as she fed on him. It was an honor he had only received once: the first when he had been human, and the second when he had been changed into a vampire. Being fed on by Shabranigdo was a joy in and of itself. Warmth and happiness flooded into every inch of his body. He moaned at the sensation of her skin brushing his. His mind was bursting over and over again with happiness…

But the joy was becoming painful. The happiness was becoming unbearable. Where was the happy sensation of fatigue and of having done something good? The joy was beginning to burn. Every inch of his body hurt, especially his throat and his chest. He suddenly spasmed, but her body weighed him down. He clutched at her hands, trying to peel her off. He could feel his heart beat slowing down. She was draining him of whatever blood he had left. His thoughts were becoming slower, his breathing having already stopped. His heart was still trying to pump blood to vital areas of his body. Almost thankfully, she stopped feeding.

She dropped him on the ground. Xellos could still see. He tried to blink, but the muscles wouldn't work. His body had redirect the blood to work the muscles in his body to his brain and his heart. The lungs weren't needed. The body didn't need to breath, but they did need to think. If the brain died, the vampire would never awaken.

He was still alive, still capable of feeling the pain in his chest from the live nerve endings, still capable of hearing and seeing as his brain kept working, but he could not speak, or move.

"Take him to see the wolves."

_Wolves? Oh God! God, no… please!_

Suichiro did not even think of shuddering. It was a suitable end. Although he liked the bodyShabranigdo used now, he longed for the day when Kikyou would again inhabit Sango's body. It would be his wildest dreams fulfilled. To see her body sprawled out under him, glistening with sweat as her body welcomed him, to hear her voice moaning his name… He smiled with pleasure. Miroku was the key to it all. If Miroku died, then what would become of them? He would still love Kikyou when her body was old and frail, but could he still _love_ her? Would she still be interested in the youth and the muscle that had attracted her to his bed in the first place? Would he still return to her religiously even after visiting the bed of the demons or succubi involved in their circle? How old would she become before the visits to her bed to please her and help her relieve extra energy became a chore rather than a reward?

"I will, m'lady. They'll pick the bones clean." He paused. "Something is still bothering you."

"Miroku has grown old… I keep forgetting that he is human… you have aged too, Suichiro, but you have simply become more alluring. I promise you, at the height of your looks, I shall change you into a vampire. Then you can be with me, always. But what happens if Miroku dies before then? What if he suffers a stroke, or a car accident? I cannot have that. I cannot have a freak accident trap me into this body. I must have youth, and grace… and attractiveness." She licked her lips, gazing at the wall without seeing it.

"Find him for me. Come to me after disposing of that… _thing_. We must plan. If we can turn Miroku into a vampire, then he'll never die. I will always be able to change bodies." She smiled. "I will protect him, like a little puppy. The time is now; it must be now, that is why this is coming to me now… find him now. I will protect him from anything bad happening to him. I will keep him safe and sound and never let anything happen to him. He will live until the world crumbles into dust!"

Suichiro picked up the body, swinging it over one broad shoulder. As they passed Kikyou, she snapped back to reality long enough to stop Suichiro. She took Xellos' chin into her hands, lifting his face so that he could see her.

"As you promised me, Xellos, you will never do that again."

* * *

Suichiro threw him down into a pit. There was a ladder to get up, but it didn't matter. he didn't have the blood to get up. He threw Xellos into the pit from a walkway deep under the building. There was no light to see the catwalk from the bottom of the pit. Xellos could hear snarling, and the sound of Suichiro's retreating footsteps on the metal of the catwalk. A metal door slammed shut. The pit was circular, made of cement. It was about ten meters across, and thirty to forty feet deep. There were, Xellos knew, row after row of pits like this one. 

The pitshoused the werewolves on the full moon.

He smelled shit. He released he was laying in it. There were deep gouges in the cement from claw marks. A red light had turned on when the door had slammed shut, allowing Xellos to see the snarling shape coming at him. The snarling mouth revealed fangs glistening with saliva, glistening blod-redfrom the light in the pit. The creature's yellow eyes were insane. Normally they would have held some kind of a human intelligence, but when the full moon was high, the wolf took over completely. The other werewolves, smelling fresh blood, were howling. He could hear the wolves nearest the pit he was in digging their claws into the cement, trying to dig through to get to the fresh blood and succulent meat.

The werewolf in front of him slowly moved forward, sniffing, as if it was afraid something was wrong with the body. When all it smelled was blood and meat, it pounced on the body. Xellos felt the jaws enclose around his leg, ripping through the jeans to get to the flesh. He screamed inside his mind, watching in horror as he saw the bone of his leg slowly being revealed as strips of flesh were peeled away. He prayed that the animal would leave his legs alone.

_Just go for the head… just go for the neck… please… just cut the connection from my head and my body… please…_

It was not until close to dawn that the wolf finally got to the neck.

* * *

Suichiro returned to Kikyou, as she had asked. He found her once again hunched over the financial statements, chewing again on the lid of her pen. This time he was not nervous about coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. "You forgot about the good news," he purred into her ear. 

"I did, didn't I? Mm, what is the good news, love?"

"Edward Elric has returned… and he brought his little brother with him."

"Has he?" She rose from the desk and placed a kiss on Suichiro's cheek before she breezed by him. She waited by him for the door and slipped her hand into his. "Take me to them, Suichiro. I wish to see our young Elric brothers."

He did take her to them. When Kikyou saw Alphonse, her hunger increased triple. He sat by his brother on a couch in the large mansion. A television played before them and the little boy was almost half-asleep. His head rested on his brother's knee, and Edward stroked the little boy's blonde hair. There was such trust and devotion between them that Kikyou was at once enamored of it. She hungered for Alphonse; he was filled with such naivety and innocence. He would be young and ripe.

Both boys looked up from the television screen when she entered. She smiled at them both. Edward was elated at seeing her again and seeing her beautiful smile. Alphonse, however, was deeply scared, and clung to Edward all the more desperately. He could see the hunger in her eyes.

He knew what was coming.

* * *

To be Continued... 


	9. Dandelion Wine

AN: I don't know what made me think of the title for this chapter. It just came to me when I was writing it. However, it is an actual book, one by Ray Bradbury, and I'd like to read it one day.

Chapter Eight: Dandelion Wine

He had been having a wonderful dream.

It was one of the ones which brought back childish, enjoyable fantasies he's secretly harbored even through puberty and his young adult life. Miroku had been dreaming about books: stack, after stack of books. And he, the boy who had been pushed from foster home to foster home and orphanage to orphanage, could lay claim to them all. All the books, those towering mountains of leather-bound and musty manuscripts were his.

What truly made it a fantasy, however, were the two extra bonuses. First, Miroku had all the time in the world to read his books. Secondly, he had an assistant to help him file the books and cross-reference them. As he dreamed, he couldn't see her face. All he could see was her body. It was hardly voluptuous. As he watched her scour the mountains of books, he could see she had curves, by they were from definition and hard work. She seemed a little clumsy but determined as she tracked down books for him. When he dropped them, she bent over to pick it up and he could see the hint of white lace under the skirt of her blazer ensemble. She was, it seemed, sweet and naïve about how enticing her body was.

He wanted to see her face. God, how he wanted to see her face!

He was seated at a mahogany table, the green and gold lamp making the book before him appear marbled in green and gold ripples. His assistant placed another book beside him and he took the opportunity to take her wrist in his hand. He heard hergasp a little in surprise and jump at his touch. He smiled at her; he meant no harm.

He slowly rose from his seat. He could feel her heart pounding; the blood pulsed in the wrist he held. It seemed fragile and small in his large hand. All he needed was to squeeze a bit harder and he could break it… His other hand reached out to touch a blushing cheek, lifting her face. He gasped in surprise when he recognized it.

Sango…

But this wasn't Sango!

The face was hers. He knew all too well the way her cheeks curved to highlight her bone structure, or the way her dark eyelashes contrasted against the gold in her eyes to make them look as if they were glowing when she closed them shyly. He knew the curve and texture of her mouth by sight and the touch of his lips. He knew the texture of her skin and the way her bangs fell just over her eyes. It was Sango's face—but it was not Sango's expression.

This girl was scared. She ever-so-politely 'yes sired' and 'no sired' his questions and fetched books without complaint. When he touched her, however, he could feel that she was afraid of him. He smiled at her, to tell her he meant her no harm, and her eyes widened even more, as if she was afraid of his smile.

The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. She seemed to ease up when it vanished. He could feel her trembling. He brushed her cheek with her hand to steady her and reassure himself. She didn't seem so scared now. She seemed relieved. She leaned into his palm, and tried to move away, but he wasn't ready to let her go yet. She went stiff with surprise. He shushed her, trying to be comforting.

Why would Sango have any reason to fear him?

Those fearful, brown-gold eyes stared up at him as he leaned down. She jumped when his lips brushed her forehead and he placed a light kiss against her skin. He released her wrist only to throw his arms around her in a tight hug. Her hands slowly rose to hug him back. Relief washed over Miroku. She was, finally, touching him back, holding him the way Sango should hold him.

He rained kisses over her cheeks, and her nose. She smiled and wrinkled her nose in happiness, they way Sango did. It was adorably cute, and he loved it. He nipped at the end of her nose, laughing. She opened her mouth to say something and he took advantage, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her. She moaned into his mouth, kissing him back. Her breath was sweet and hot, like a forbidden taste against his tongue as he played with her. She, slowly, played back, clinging to him as if swept away with passion. Her knees were weak, sagging, and her kiss was losing in passion as his kept escalating.

She forced her mouth away from his for breath. She couldn't breathe as he seemed to try and devour her. Miroku's heart was pounding in his chest. He was hungry; hungry for her. He nibbled at her jaw line and she froze in his arms, like a rabid playing dead in the jaws of a wolf. Miroku didn't care anymore. He didn't care that she was scared.

Touching her burned him. He felt fire wherever he touched. She was trying to hurt him. She was trying to burn him. It wasn't his fault. He was so _hungry_…

He pushed her down against the table, opening his jaws wide. His teeth felt strange and foreign. He saw her horrified face, and he knew that expression.

_Oh no. No! Not again! Not _again!

His knee rested between her legs as he shoved his body over hers. Miroku had lost control of the dream. It was a nightmare… or was it reality?... as he opened his mouth and bit down around his neck. He was not repulsed as her blood flowed into his mouth. It was sweet and strong and intoxicating, the way he'd imagined something powerfully natural and intoxicating, like dandelion wine. He was hungry; he drank more and more of it, and he was proud of the woman laying still under him.

She was a good pet. She didn't cry out. He'd drink as much as she like, and then toss her back to the books, off to search for another misplaced edition or a lost tome. His powerful hand stroked her glossy mane as his lips left the wound, watching the dark liquid pool in the curve of her graceful neck. His tongue licked the surface, probing lightly, enjoying the way her body shuddered against him as if in passion and not revulsion. He licked away the blood, hiding the marks he'd laid on her: on her neck, on her wrists, on her shoulders, and on her thighs.

Her eyes were turned away from his. He slowly guided hers back to his. He smiled at her, and she finally spoke.

"This is all my fault…"

"Yes, it is Sango," he found himself agreeing. His heart was breaking as he watched the tears roll down her cheeks. "You tempt me, Sango. You make me think things I shouldn't think. You make me do things I shouldn't do. You're a temptation, Sango! Why don't you leave me? Why do you keep making me hurt you by staying by my side?"

She shivered and looked away. He smiled, turning her face to his sharply this time. He could feel his lips pulling back in a smile that stretched from ear to ear, and he could feel fangs cutting his bottom lip. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blood, enraptured by it. He felt no remorse as he felt her soft skin buckle under his tight grip, or the way his hand was reaching up the hem of her shirt.

"You can't leave, can you, Sango?" She didn't flinch at his touch. Her skin was like fire against his hand. "You need me, don't you Sango?" His voice didn't sound like his own anymore. Sango was writhing under him. The passionless Sango who had needed the sting of teeth to feign sex was burned away by the fire he touched. She was moaning under him—but the horror still remained. "Say it, Sango. Tell me that you need me… Tell me that you're mine, forever…"

"I'm yours…"

"Forever!"

"…forever…"

Things were getting blurry. He couldn't tell who was who anymore.

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you."

"Say it like you mean it!"

"I can't!"

There was nothing but shapes; no color, no sex. He felt like he was a fog. He was confused, disoriented, but he could still feel the stinging, burning flesh in his hands, on his body, under him.

His cheek stung.

"Say it like you mean it!" someone hissed.

"…But, I can't…."

SLAP!

"Mean it, damn it!"

"….I love you…"

Things were becoming clearer. He still didn't know who had last spoken. Lips covered his. They were sweet and succulent, and he knew every curve from taste and touch alone. Her breath was sweet and strong and intoxicating, the way he'd imagined something powerfully natural and intoxicating, like dandelion wine. Sango's body was warm and comforting, kissing him back with unimaginable passion and need. He slowly lifted his head, needing air, to stop before he died, drowning in dandelion wine.

Shabranigdo's blue eyes stared up at him. "I knew you loved me, Miroku."

"NO!"

Miroku woke up gasping. The back of his throat ached. He must have been screaming. He smiled, thinking it funny in an ironic sort of way, and ran a trembling hand through his hair. His hair was damp, clinging to his head. On his bedside table, his cellular phone was ringing.

The muscles of his chest strained as he reached for the phone. Sweat glistened on his skin. He threw off the damp sheets, revealing his naked body, as he breathed in the cool air. Already the physical effects of the dream were wearing away, but the shaking fear in the pit of his stomach remained.

"Hello?"

There was a moment of silence on the other line. Then a timid feminine voice spoke up. "Miroku-san?"

"Yes." He slowly got himself off the bed and stretched. Miroku started heading immediately for the washroom. He needed a shower.

"It's Sakura. Remember me?"

He smiled, and felt his body ease up as he flicked on the bathroom light. He shut the ajar door opposite the one he'd come through. That one went to Ranma's room, and he didn't want to disturb Ranma with the light. "Of course I remember you, Sakura. You're the girl with the bright pink hair. It's a very becoming color on you." He began to wonder what time it was. He hadn't bothered to check.

On the other end of the line there was a slight pause. Miroku knew it was because he'd flustered Sakura and she was trying to steady herself again. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Miroku-san, but you said that we could call you if we needed any help or anything."

"The offer still stands."

"Good." Sakura took a deep breath and then began to speak. "Merle and I have the same night study group as Al. Last night he didn't show up to the course. We tried calling his house, to see if he was sick, and his fathersaid that he had never come home. We called the house where Edward lives. Alphonse wasn't there, either, and Edward hasn't been home in almost a week. We called around again this morning, and we still couldn't find them. Alphonse hasn't shown up to school yet."

_School?_ Miroku turned and glanced into his room. It was nine am. He stifled a groan and wondered how he could have slept in so late.

"Merle and I are really worried about him, Miroku-san. What if Alphonse is hurt somewhere and needs our help? What if Edward did something to him? What if Ed was in trouble and Al wanted to try and help him? Al's like that, you know? He's one of those people where it doesn't matter if he's in danger or not, he's going to try and help his big brother."

"Yes, I can understand that," he said. Just thinking of the healthy blond-haired, blue-eyed boy and the sweet naivety of his smile made Miroku want to help Sakura. "I'll tell you what I'll do, Sakura. My friends and I have some sway with the police. We'll put out an APB for Edward and Al and I'll call them up right now and we'll go out looking for them."

"Can Merle and I come too?" There was more than just hope in her voice. There was need. It was like she and Merle needed to come because they were his friends. They knew, deep down, that Al was in trouble and those bonds of friendship told them that they needed to help.

Miroku sighed. "I don't think so, Sakura. You and Merle belong in school. That's where it's safest for you. Any help that you can give us as to places where we should look, like where you last saw Al, would be helpful, but it's best for everyone if you remain at school because then we'll know where you are."

Her silence was angry. "Fine," she finally agreed, disgruntled. There was a long pause and then her voice cracked. She was crying. "You guys will find him and he'll be okay, won't you, Miroku-san? I mean, Merle says that you guys helped her find her mother, and she was still alive… can you bring back Al alive too? Please?"

With all his heard Miroku wished he could say yes. He couldn't bring himself to tell her flat-out no. If Shabranigdo was involved in this particular disappearance, then Miroku doubted that there was any chance of finding Al and bringing him back alive, let alone uninjured. Miroku had seen the bodies of people that Kikyou got a hold of. He wished to go he could forget the tooth and claw marks that disfigured bodies, or the way faces were contorted and locked into screams of agony from the blissful pain and the torture. He prayed that he wouldn't find Al's body like that…

"I don't know, Sakura. I'll find him. I'll promise you that I will find him, even if I never have to give up looking, but can I find him alive…"

It broke his heart to hear the cost of his truthfulness. On the cell phone, Sakura began to cry harder, and she turned it off as it turned into body-shaking sobs. The sound felt like a knife to his heart.

_What else could I have said?_

* * *

Miroku hated his reflection. He stared at it for a moment before he turned from the mirror. His body felt much older than it should have. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago he had been graduating and his body felt as light as a feather, filling him with happiness. Now it felt like his heart was dead. He tried, more than once, to will his hands to lift to feel his breast, to reassure himself that his heart was still beating, but his hands recoiled at the idea of touching the skin of his chest.

Pain briefly washed through his mind. He could still remember the surgeon, Inuyasha, leaning over him with the silver knife and driving it, sawing it, through his skin. But it was only a memory…

To free Shabranigdo, Miroku's blood, it had to have been released in a certain order, in the forms of mystical symbols and glyphs. It was magic, yes—ancient magic—but it had also been done to prolong the torture of the individual. The symbols tortured him. Whenever he touched his chest, he could feel the raised white lines, feel the blood on his fingers, feel the heat of the flames, and the pain of the silver knife.

From his waist, just below his belly button, to his obloquies running along his body, and up to a line drawn from neck bone to neck bone, were layers of small white stars. Circles, stars, diamonds, straight lines, wavy lines, layers upon layers and circles within circles, they moved with him and on him like shimmering scales.

When he saw them Miroku felt sick.

He hated them.

* * *

It didn't take very long for Sango, Miroku, Ranma and Akane to assemble. Armed with only a small list from Merle and Sakura regarding where Al could be hiding with his big brother, they set out to scour Tokyo. They knew it was next to impossible, but they had to try, and they were willing to break a few rules to try and find the siblings before it was too late.

Akane remained the voice of reason, even though she had been the one to suggest it. She fidgeted a little nervously, about to once again say that they shouldn't do it, but she gave up. It was impossible to change the mind of her friends and fiancée. Her plan had been simple, and risky, but it was the most logical suggestion they had had.

_Sango's_ _sense of smell is pretty keen. He only went missing last night. We might still be able to pick up his scent, you know what I mean?_ she had suggested in the car.

Sango had glanced at her in the rear view mirror. _But even to get a good enough scent and follow the trail, I'd need a better nose than the one I have. I'd need to be at least part way turned, and I can't do that. _She had shifted her gaze at Ranma to see his reaction. For being terrified of cats, he had no reaction. Ranma didn't like letting people know when he was afraid. He preferred always being sullen and quiet so that no one would ever learn how to push his buttons.

Both women knew that it hadn't worked very well. Ranma's stoicism only took him so far. Even though he was staring ahead, beside him in the backseat Akane slowly reached out to briefly touch his shoulder. He pulled away from her at the last moment, and the hand offered out in friendship fell back, dejected. Ranma was mad at her for making the suggestion that he disliked it when Sango changed shapes.

With nothing else to go on, and desperate to find the Elric brothers, the four IBSP members had unaminously agreed. They would form a protective circle around Sango and let her do her work to scent out the trail of the two brothers. Unable to start at the school, they would start from Al's house and head away from the school whenever his scent differed. Somewhere along that line to school, they suspected, Edward had met up with his brother and gone somewhere else.

The four of them could only pray that Edward hadn't been using a car. If Al had climbed into one of those, his scent would be lost.

To track Al by scent, they would also need a strong sample so Sango could get an accurate reading. Only one place would have such a unique scent; a place where he spent a lot of time, where the belongings were his. His bedroom. It would be rich with Al's unique scent.

The four young adults poured out of Miroku's beat up car and stared up at the house. Miroku checked his wristwatch.

"The father went to work. He isn't expected back for three more hours. Plenty of time." He released the hem of his blazer to cover up his watch. Miroku's grey blue eyes turned to his best friend. "This is your field, Ranma."

Ranma smiled and glanced up at the roof of the house. It was ten feet straight up. In the blink of an eye, his legs bent and he jumped, straight up, landing lightly on the roof of the house. Akane watched him jump up on the first roof of the two-storey house with envy.

"I wish I could do that." A slight blush touched her cheeks when Ranma turned and stared at her with warm eyes. He didn't smile, but the expression was enough. One day, Ranma would teach her how to do that as well. Then both of them could do it and she wouldn't have to rely on him any more. She smiled up at him. "I know I'll do it eventually, but I'll never be so quiet at it. Did you hear that landing? A cat makes more noise."

"Well maybe if you weighed less you wouldn't make such a heavy landing," Ranma teased from up on the roof. Her cheeks went red again, but this time it was out of anger.

While Ranma investigated the second floor, searching for an open window, Miroku and Sango headed for the porch of the house. Many people in the summer time left upper floor windows open believing that they were out of reach for a burglar. As Ranma was proving, even those windows were accessible with the right skills and motivation.

On the porch, Miroku spotted red drops. A few small drops were clustered together. He leaned down. Without a doubt, it was blood. Miroku had become accustomed to seeing it all too often. He no longer needed forensics or Sango's acute senses to know when blood was blood.

Miroku gestured to Sango. She squatted, inspecting the marks of blood on the porch. Her long hair swung over her shoulder. She wetted her lips, trying to think of what to say, and her hand began inching toward her firearm hidden under her spring blazer.

"I've got an open window," Ranma reported, suddenly swinging down from the rooftop and hanging there a moment.

"Get to the door and let us in as soon as you get in," Sango ordered. "And be careful. We've got blood on the porch." Ranma nodded and once more disappeared above the roof. Sango glanced back at Miroku. "It's times like this I wish you had your empathy enhanced the way you used to. If you did, then you might be able to surmise how this blood was shed."

When Miroku thought of Al's big blue eyes and the love and hope in his voice when he spoke of his brother, he had to agree. Almost subconsciously, his hand went for the pistol in his shoulder strap. The metal was cold in his clammy hand. It feltlike an eternity for Ranma to come down and unlock the door. When he did, he gestured to the kitchen with an empty hand.

"I heard sounds coming from in there."

Sango pulled the safety off her gun, her gold-brown eyes furious under her half-closed lashes. "I'll go first."

Miroku held out an arm, preventing her from crossing. He could feel the exact moment her smoldering gaze landed on him. Slowly, his blue eyes rose to her face. Though he didn't have the strange gold eyes to enhance the look, his piercing expression was far more deadly than Sango's. "I'm just a good a shot as you are," he coldly reminded her. His voice sounded more like a growl than his normal, helplessly seductive tone. "I'm going in first this time."

Sango knew better than to fight Miroku when he was this dead-set on something. Sango always went first. It was just the smart thing to do. She had better senses, she could see in the dark as if it were little more than dawn, and she could survive a bullet—so long as it didn't strike her heart or it wasn't made of silver. Miroku, by comparison, as she had pointed out, could have been made of rice paper he was thatvulnerable. If he wanted to go, though, she'd acquiesce. Still, she couldn't let him do something stupid without getting the last word in.

"If you get shot, I'm never going to forgive you."

He managed to smile for her, though it did little to stiffen the resolve in his eyes. "I love you too, Sango."

He stepped into the hallway. He didn't need senses as acute as Sango's—or even Ranma's—to hear the sounds coming from the kitchen. He recognized them. Someone was crying. Slowly, so as not to startle anybody, he slipped around the corner.

What he saw laying on the kitchen floor shattered his heart, and all the rage at Shabranigdo came storming out.

* * *

to be continued... 


	10. The Victims

Chapter Nine: The Victims

The first things which Miroku became painfully aware of were the waves of sadness coming from the kitchen. It struck his mind so hard for a moment he was lost at sea in a storm of tears and misery. His heart was shaking with the effort of trying to keep himself from breaking down.

As if trying to hide himself in childhood memories, Edward Elric had crawled underneath the kitchen table. He sat huddled on the floor. His blonde hair was matted and tangled, pulled and ravaged out of his normal braid. Tears ran down his face; his face was as pale as ash. Rocking back and forth, he now and again lifted his head as he hid his despair in another head of golden-blonde hair. Clutched tightly in his arms was his younger brother's younger body.

At the sight of Edward clutching his younger brother, Miroku's mind slowly acknowledged the blood in the room. Streaks of it ran across the kitchen floor, pooling under the table. Handprints, belonging to Edward, covered the table's surface and the backs of the chairs from when he had crawled underneath the table. His clothes were soaked in it. His hands were caked with it up to his elbows. Alphonse, still in his prestine school uniform, was covered in patches of blood: all of them the same handprints from the table and chairs.

Miroku drew a little bit closer. He could hear the others behind him, including Akane's softly stifled cry, but knew that Sango was holding them back. He was the empath; this was his domain.

He drew close enough to see the tiny holes in the little boy's neck. Vampire teeth marks. There was more than one set of holes. They lined his neck, his lips, his wrists. No wonder the blood on him wasn't the result of his own wounds.

There wasn't a drop of blood left in him.

Fuck empathy.

Miroku felt his hands ball and move of their own accord before he knew what he was doing. His hands grabbed the edge of the table and his momentum sent it flying. The others jumped in shock. Edward stared up at him with the same wide blue eyes Al had turned up to him in hope. Miroku's lips tightened and he struck with his balled hand. Edward's head whipped to the side from the impact and the sound vibrated in the suddenly silent room.

"Miroku!" Sango cried. He could hear her trying to come and restrain him. "What are you doing?"

Quick as a snake, he grabbed Edward by the collar of his shirt and tore him away from his brother. He slammed him against whatever was closest—the fridge. Edward's feet dangled a foot above the ground.

"You were his big brother, damn it! Don't you know what that means?" His dark blue eyes stared into ones that were baby-blue. When Ed didn't answer, he slammed him against the wall again. Ed's eyes fluttered from the impact. "You were his big brother! You were supposed to protect him! You were supposed to watch over him! You were supposed to keep him out of trouble and instead you were the one who handed him over to those blood-sucking monsters! Didn't you! Didn't you?"

Ed's head cracked against the fridge and he mumbled an answer. Sango froze in her tracks, suddenly understanding why Miroku was so mad. She glanced from the body, tears stinging the corner of her eyes, to Ed's shrunken form, and Miroku's glorious anger… and she was surprised to see the tears running over his cheeks.

Miroku had once had a younger brother. His father had prepared him well for the experience, constantly reminding Miroku of is duty as the elder brother: to protect him.

_Protect your little brother_, his father had said, _and one day, when you need it and you're brother has grown up, he'll be there to protect you._

But that would never be the case. Miroku's brother had died in the same fire that had taken his father, mother, and had awoken in Miroku his psychic powers. The incident was still a sore spot for Miroku, and Sango considered it her burden to bear as well. It had been ever since Miroku had confessed it to her. He blamed himself not saving his family, for being the only survivor. But he wasn't to blame. No matter who said it or how many times it was said, Miroku could not give up that secretive guilt he harbored. He would never believe that he had been unable to help them because he regretted not even trying.

And now Edward had broken that same rule by turning his little brother over to Shabranigdo…

His arms shook with strain and he sucked in a ragged breath of air. "You were supposed to protect him… why didn't you do it? Why?"

Edward's eyes were glazed over. "I just… _She_ was there… _She_ was asking for it, and I just… I wanted to make _her_ happy. _She_ was so beautiful… just happy. That was all I wanted. To see her smile! I wanted her to smile at me, and touch me out of joy! I wanted Al to see her beautiful smile! And then, there she was, and I was holding his hand, and she was _so_ happy. She smiled at me. And then…"

His face crumpled. Miroku's grip loosened and he slipped back down to the ground. Edward went to his brother and held him again. His hands tightened on the limp body in his grip. Fresh tears of fear and pain began running down his cheeks anew. "She took him into his arms, held him on her lap like a mother. She asked him questions… and then… then she opened her mouth… and it was terrible… and her lover was there, holding me down and making me watch… I could feel… I could feel his… He was _enjoying_ it! Enjoying watching her feed on my baby brother!"

He buried his face in his brother's angelic blond hair as Miroku pulled away, aghast. A mumbled repetition of 'she killed him, she killed him' was barely audible. No one in the kitchen moved as Edward rocked back and forth, holding his brother's body. They just stared in shock and silence.

Finally, Ranma spoke. "Let's take him with us. Back to HQ."

"We can't," Sango whispered.

"What else are we supposed to do, Sango? Leave him here for the police to find him? Or worse, his family? I know we aren't supposed to bring ordinary humans to the headquarters, but it's too late. Edward knows we exist. We have to take him in. It's our duty to make sure he can be properly reintegrated into society."

"Or thrown in jail," added Ranma.

Akane glanced at him. "Incarceration is still human society, Ranma. If we threw him in there like that, he'd never last a day."

Miroku was silent, staring down at the two of them. No one knew what he was thinking. Not even Miroku himself knew if any thoughts ran in his mind. He just felt numb. He glanced over his shoulder at the others. "Ranma's right. Take him with us. We have to get him fixed up. Maybe Fuu can talk to him and can help him make sense of everything."

"What about… the… the body?" Sango asked. "I don't think he's going to let go of it."

Miroku reached down and gripped Edward again, hauling him up to his feet. He stood, but it was wobbly at best. "Get a blanket. We'll take them both with us."

Sango shook her head, about to protest, but Miroku shot her down with a look. "Would you let go of me if you thought there was a hope of bringing me back?"

"Well, I… I… No. I don't think I could. If I let go of you, it would be like confirming everything. I'd worry that you wouldn't want to come back if you didn't know there wasn't someone who loved you on the other side."

"Then as gross as it is, when Edward is ready, he'll let go on his own."

XXXXXXX

Rin was eleven years old. Like most normal eleven years olds she went to school, she liked animals, Sunday-morning cartoons, manga, and was just starting to daydream about boys. She thought boys were cute; the nice ones who didn't tease her, anyway.

But there weren't too many of those. Most of the ones who were nice were in the IBSP, and most of them were too old for her. Sesshoumaru. If she wanted a boy to kiss her, or to play games with her, she wanted someone like Sesshoumaru: strong, smart, easy on the eyes, sweet, and who treated her special. And brave. But especially strong. Rin wanted someone strong to always be with her. She didn't like being by herself. She knew that there were bad things outside in the world. She had heard what they had done to people.

At eleven years old, Rin still followed her mother's last words to her: _be quiet, Rin. Be quiet and they won't find you._ If she was quiet, she knew, then they wouldn't find her. So Rin was quiet, in every way she knew how.

At eleven years old, Rin was quiet enough to sneak up behind Sesshoumaru and pull his long, silver hair before he could figure out she was there. Her feet made no noise on the carpet, her breath did not stir the air, she did not make a smell, she did not disturb the shadows, and she did not speak. She had heard Sesshoumaru describe her to others as a shadow. She was beyond a shadow. A shadow could be seen in daylight. In daylight shadows stood out like a panther in the snow. She could not be seen in any light. She was, simply, invisible. She was nothingness.

Sneaking up on Sesshoumaru was a game to her, and to him, she knew. He was always waiting for her to pounce on him. As he sat at is desk, she was able to push open the door enough for her slim body to slip through. The door soundlessly closed behind her. Sesshoumaru did not look up. Rin circled around the desk, walking stealthily on the tips of her. As she walked towards the desk, Sesshoumaru looked up and spotted her. His gold eyes were warmed, warmer than ever she had seen them in the past two years. At eleven, Rin knew what the expression was. Pride.

"You need more practice at learning to move in front of your intended target," he told her. "You must learn to move at a speed which is both quick enough to get behind them, and slow enough to not draw attention to yourself. People will turn to see what moves quickly because it attracts their attention." She stared at him, and she did not need to ask her question. Sesshoumaru could read her question on her face. "Every one is different. You must learn the various speeds before you attack from in front. It will differ based upon age, sex, or far sighted or near sighted. Always attack from behind, whenever you can. People cannot see what is coming from behind. If you plan on attacking from the front, you must first study the person, to learn how they see the world. Only then can you accurately judge when and how to move."

She nodded her head, bowing her body slightly, like a good pupil. Rin was not a dumb girl. She knew what it was, what he was doing. Sesshoumaru was more than someone who protected her. He was her teacher. He was priming her to be an assassin. She would be one of the best. She trusted him explicitly. He would not send her to kill someone who was good. She would kill the people of the world who were bad. She would kill the people who had killed her parents, dissecting them alive. She would kill people like that; the people who were bad on the inside.

How would she know who was good and who was bad? That was easy. She could tell. She could tell because she could see inside of them. Everyone looked different on the inside. Sesshoumaru, he was half-way good and half-way bad. The two were always fighting inside of him. She knew why. It was because he hated himself sometimes for what he was doing to Rin, how he was using her. He hated himself for it and it fed the bad-place inside of him. She wanted to tell him that it was okay, that she wanted it, but she couldn't.

_Be quiet, Rin, and they won't find you._

"How was school?"

The question made her face fall. She looked away guiltily, trying to push away the swarm of tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. She wanted to cry and scream, to punch and hit something until she get the satisfaction of seeing it shatter into a million little pieces, but she couldn't. Sesshoumaru had taught her that, too. Sometimes, feelings were good. They could make people fight harder, better, or longer than they could anymore. Fighting in anger or defense of someone you loved washed away your pain. It refreshed you and masked your pain. People fought beyond the limit then. Fighting out of emotion should be your last resort, your last weapon. It was your ace up the sleeve in case the battle failed to go your way. Some emotions were bad and pointless. Like crying. It served no purpose. Why should Rin cry because of school? It didn't matter. It was just school.

"School was school then." Sesshoumaru leaned back in his chair, stroking his stubborn chin with his elegant fingers and regarding Rin appraisingly. "You know, Rin, you have to realize eventually that you can't get through human life without talking." Her frame stiffened in apprehension and revulsion at the very idea of using her voice. "I'm not saying that you should become loquacious… you know that word? Loquacious? Good. I'm just saying that eventually you will need to talk. Learn to know when to be silent and when to speak. Understand?" She didn't answer. His voice grew dangerous. "Rin, it's been two years. Do you understand? You don't have to remain silent anymore."

She lifted her chin defiantly. That was he end of that conversation. Sesshoumaru knew exactly what it meant, and he was disheartened by it as much as he was proud. Rin did not, he believed, deserve to be a human. She should have been born a demon. She had the balls to be a demon. Her stance said it all: you will have to make me scream to get me to speak again.

He wanted to threaten to suspend all IBSP-related training until she answered him back. She was having trouble in school because she refused to speak. The school understood that they could not force her to do it, but she simply sat in class, listening, without speaking. The only reason why she had made it so far was because she had excellent grades. A test rarely went by when she did not get a hundred percent.

"Rin…" He thought something he should have thought of long ago. He and the other senior members of the IBSP all thought that eventually Rin would simply snap back to talking again. They hadn't understood her tenacity. After two years it was clear. She simply would not speak. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "Rin… how would feel about learning sign language? Then you would still be able to communicate."

She smiled at the idea and held out her hands, beginning to sign rapidly.

He groaned. The kid was smart, that was for sure. Sesshoumaru realized this would mean that he would need to learn how to do it too. "Rin, how long have you been able to do that?" She held up one. "One what? One day? One week? One month? One year?" Her grin smiled, and Sesshoumaru found himself staring at her.

_That wench! That fox-faced, conniving, cunning little wench!_

His eyes were warm again, and Rin knew why. She thought nothing else could be prettier.

Beatiful, shining pride!

"Well… obviously you don't seem to need lessons… but you are still the daughter of two psychics, Rin. You must also learn to shield your mind from attack and from detection. Go and see Fuu. She can help you with that." Rin smiled and bounced over to the desk, throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. He patted her hair affectionately. As she bounced off, he groaned and picked up his desk phone, calling his assistant. "Please ask the librarian to bring me up a book on learning sign language."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Rin!" Fuu smiled with delight as she opened the door to the office she shared with her husband, Ferio in the new IBSP office facility. Her gold hair danced in the sunlight streaming through the window. She bent down and gave Rin a hug before admitting the girl into the room. Rin thought she smelled like sunshine. "Ferio, look who decided to come and visit us."

"Hey Rin," Ferio said. His smile was stretched across his broad face. Rin knew why Fuu liked Ferio. He wasn't as pretty as Sesshoumaru. Compared to Sesshoumaru's gold eyes Ferio's were molten, deeper and thicker in comparison. His hair was an odd shade of green, and he had two nasty scars: one across the bridge of his nose and the other slanting down his cheek. Rin knew Fuu loved him because of the smile. Somewhere around forty years of age, Ferio was still boyish in his own way, apt to making off-color jokes at inopportune moments and flirting with his wife.

He also, she knew, kept candy in his blazer pocket. His open lap, as he pushed away from the desk, was an invitation to come up and find it. Rin leaned up and gave him a hug and climbed up, but his hand blocked her from getting to the candy. Rin scowled at him and tried again. Then she grinned, understanding. She began fighting him to get to the candy, her two hands battling his one as he defended himself. His other hand rested under her ponytail, telling her what she needed to know.

_Watch and learn, Rin. You know how to attack. Learn how to defend._

Rin loved coming to visit Fuu and Ferio, and it wasn't just because of the candy. They always made her feel welcome. She was family. They were family. Finally, she felt she had righted things. Fuu was her aunt, the way she was supposed to be: giving her hugs, cookies, and kisses. Now she sat across from Ferio's desk in the crowded office, knitting. Rin thought it was a motherly thing to do. She remembered her mother knitting. The steady beats of the two needles striking each other gave a beat to the defense and attack she was practicing with Ferio.

It wasn't just that they were nice. They were Good, with a capital 'G' and everything. They weren't like Sesshoumaru. They were good through and through. They were always happy, and smiling, making googgly-eyes at each other. When she looked at them, she thought that Fuu looked perfect. There was not one bad thing inside of her. Rin knew there could be, and hand been, but then Fuu mourned it, accepted it, and turned it into something better. By accepting it, she made it good inside of her. She didn't sit and fester. When she looked at Ferio, he was a little different. There was the good place, yes, and there were more bad things than she saw in Fuu, but Ferio did the same thing. He mourned and accepted it and made it something good. He didn't let his wounds fester.

Sesshoumaru, she had eventually come to understand, had accepted the things he had done, but he had not mourned the people he had done them too. It was, to him, a duty of the things he had done. He accepted it because it was his job to do it.

Ferio was different. She could see the duty when he looked at him. But his idea of duty wasn't like Sesshoumaru's. It was Sesshoumaru's duty to kill because killing was his duty. He was a being made to kill. Ferio's duty was to protect people he loved: his wife, Miroku, Ranma, and as of the past two years: Sango, Akane, and Rin. The girls had been added to that list. He killed, and he got bad spots on him, because he didn't want others to have them.

Sacrifice. That was what made Ferio different than Sesshoumaru. Ferio mourned the things he had done because he wished he had never had to do them in the first place. And then he accepted them, he accepting committing them because they saved people. Then, slowly, the dark spots began to fade.

Finally, Fuu put down her knitting needles and Ferio stopped fighting. Rin's hands bolted to his pocket and extracted some candies. As she sat on his lap, swinging her legs and unwrapping her prize, she felt Fuu's mind brush hers. Once again Fuu was trying to search for any sign that Rin's psychic ability was beginning to grow. Had she ever met any kind of resistance or thoughts, Fuu would know that Rin was starting to develop her psychic talents, but Rin never resisted. Fuu never went deep enough to read her mind, giving her privacy, so she didn't mind the tests.

"Sesshoumaru-sama called us, Rin," she finally said. "He told us that I was supposed to start to teach you about how to shield your mind from being detected by a psychic. Would you like to start?" Rin nodded eagerly and Fuu smiled at her warmly. "Very well then. Try closing your eyes. You can remain there. Can you tell when I'm reaching out to you?" Rin nodded and Fuu felt herself relax a little. That was one of the hardest things to do. The rest should come easily.

"Here's what I want you to do, Rin…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back at the office, Sesshoumaru finished making a call to Urahara. The man was excellent at controlling his chi, the aura around him. Rin would learn from him how to move silently. Between Fuu teaching her mind to be a blank slate, Sesshoumaru teaching her offense, Ferio teaching her defense, and Urahara showing her how to hide herself from pyshics with the ability to see emotions and energy, Rin would learn to be as invisible as was humanly possible.

Sesshoumaru rubbed his face. And then... then his little Rin would be the best agent they could have for infiltration. Better than even Ranma.

And he would use her...

Rin would never understand the real reason for the bad-spots she saw in Sesshoumaru. As far as she was concerned, she wasn't being used at all. She was getting exactly what she wanted from them with nothing more than silence and a sweet smile. Then she'd have her revenge...


	11. The Cards Speak

Chapter Ten: The Cards Speak

"Do you think he'll ever recover enough to want to talk to us?" Akane asked Sango. She never took her eyes off of the teenager behind the cell wall.

Edward Elric was still huddled, though they had managed to take his brother's body from him. His knees tucked under his chin and his hands caught under his knees, he still rocked back and forth with blind eyes. Sango even doubted that he recognized he was in jail.

They had taken him to see Fuu, but she had been unable to offer him much help. She had vowed, however, to continue to keep trying to get through to him. His mind, she had assured them, was intact underneath his exterior, but it was wrapped in layers of denial, pain, fear, and even lust. To make sure that his mind continued to be intact she needed time to work away all the other feelings that were hiding his mind. Only then would they be able to learn what had really happened.

"Fuu's a good psychic," Sango told her best friend.

"That didn't really answer the question."

Sango quietly stared at Edward before answering. "Something warped this boy's mind. I don't know if Fuu's got the talent and the power it takes to unravel the psychic webs that Shabranigdo—or somebody—left behind. Worse, I don't know if Fuu can handle it. She's such a nice woman. I don't think there's a mean bone in her body. She's going to see what… what _someone_ did to that boy. When she breaks into his mind, she's going to see how Al died and see it all with Edward's feelings mixed in. She's deceptively strong for looking so fragile-looking, but Fuu's got a tender heart. I just don't want it to be something so horrible that… that we lose Fuu, too."

Akane stared at her a moment and then back at Edward. She didn't want to see Fuu like that either. She leaned up and threw her arm around Sango's shoulders. Under her embrace, Sango relaxed, but not enough to ease over Akane's feelings that there was something wrong. "I'm sure that Fuu will be just fine. She's had ages of experience at this kind of thing."

She was considering asking if Sango felt okay. For the past two days she had been unusually quiet. Sango was quiet by nature, yes, but this was a little too odd. In the past two years, Sango had been smiling more, despite the dire situations in which they often became entangled. That, Akane knew, was the result of Miroku. Only Miroku, she had concluded, would also be able to do the averse and take away the happiness that he brought out in Sango.

Before Akane could ask, however, laughter cut her off. Deep and rumbling and baritone in nature, there was a slight hint of insanity to it that made goose bumps run over her flesh. It was as deranged as it was pleasing.

"You poor, stupid little things," a voice crooned. In the cell next to Edward's an older gentleman leaned over, letting his silver hair hang between the bars of his cage. Akane and Sango stepped over to him to see that it was Inuyasha. The cold bars pressed into the pale skin of his forehead. From behind ebony-colored lashes his gold eyes bore into theirs. "If you let me out of this cell I could have tracked down Kagome two years ago. Then _none_ of this never would have happened! Trust us, you said. Help us, you said! Help us end this, you said!"

"We do want your help!" Sango interrupted.

Inuysha's clawed hands snapped out between the bars of the cage. Sango tried to move, but he was too fast for her. His claws snagged the hem of her blouse and he dragged her forward, slamming her body against the bars. Spittle flew from his fangs as he yelled.

"Then let me out! I can find her! I can smell her! I can find her, just let me out of this goddamn cage!"

Sango struggled against him. Her knee slammed up in instinct only to meet the metal bars of the cage. Inuyasha threw her away. Sango's supernatural balance kept her from falling at the sudden release.

Akane stared at him. Once upon a time, he'd been a doctor. His long hair now hung to his knees in ragged waves. His bangs were out of control. His gold eyes held the slight look of madness and his pale skin had been bleached by incarceration. He held his body with tension, his shoulders, arms and feet braced. He didn't look like a man anymore, despite the physical appearance. He looked insane.

The guards were running, their stun guns drawn and ready to subdue Inuyasha. Inuyasha, for all of his insanity, was ready to take their punishment. When the door to his cell opened and the two guards came in, he did not retaliate. In fact, he never took his eyes from the faces of Sango and Akane as they watched. The guards stuck him and he did not flinch. The guards didn't seem to notice that the girls were still there as they stuck him again and again.

The stuck him so many times his stubborn knees finally gave out and he fell to the ground in a heavy lump, finally breaking the spell he had seemed to cast over Sango and Akane. The guards filed out and locked the cell door. Inuyasha did not move. One of them spat, and it landed in his hair, milky-white compared to the silver strands of his fiercely delicate hair.

"Sorry you had to see that," one of the guards said. He took Sango's arm and pulled her away, even though she didn't want to go.

"The good doctor has gone a bit insane. He howls day and night to be released, saying that he can hear his wife calling to him. More'n a bit deranged if you asked me," the other guard reported. He took Akane's arm and pulled her away. The two guards let them down the hallway and back to the exit. "Next time stay far out of reach of that one. You never can tell when he's playing with you and when's out for blood."

"B… blood?"

The guard glanced down at Akane. "Yeah. He bit one of our guards last week. He said that he'd drain every last one of us of blood if we got in his way. The good doctor constantly tries to break out. Not a week goes by that he doesn't try. Keeps saying that his wife is calling to him."

Akane looked at each of the guards in turn. "But… his wife is Shabranigdo… I mean, she's possessed by the demon. She can't call him. She's not even a psychic."

"Exactly," the guard agreed. He pressed the button for the elevator which would take them back up to the surface and out of the lower depths of the old IBSP building. "Like I said, he's deranged."

The quieter guard looked down at Sango. He'd noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks, but had said nothing about them. Feeling his eyes on her, Sango turned to him. She didn't even seem to know that there were tears on her cheeks. Her brown-gold eyes were sad. "Whose order was it to use stun guns on him? Whose order was it to beat him into submission whenever he became rambunctious?"

The guard's jaw dropped at her quiet, probing questions. He tried to find words for a few moments, stammering, and then he answered her, spreading his hands helplessly. "It's just procedures, Miss…"

Her brown-gold eyes turned suddenly harsh. "Who!"

"It's just procedure…"

"To hell with procedures!" Sango yelled. She tore her arm away and stomped away from them, never daring to turn her back on the guards. The other guard was so surprised he released Akane, who was just as shocked at Sango's outburst. Worse than her voice, however, was her eyes. They were wild. Not insane, like Inuyasha's, but like the eyes of a predatory animal caught by hunters and trying desperately to flee. "I've had enough of procedures! I can't fucking stand the word 'procedures' anymore! If I find out that you did that to one more prisoner, I swear to god that I'm going to come down here and use those sticks on you! Let's see how much you like being spat on or beaten down into the floor!"

Marching into the elevator, Akane hurried after her, leaving the two guards stunned. After the doors had closed, it was Akane's turn to yell, ignorant of the way that Sango's body was shaking uncontrollably.

"What the hell was that, Sango? I mean, I was pissed too, but you're supposed to be the one with self-control! What's going on? First Miroku freaks out, and then you… neither of you have been acting normal! Don't think that Ranma and I haven't noticed just because we're not the ones who have heightened senses or empathy!"

It was too much. Sango couldn't stand to have Akane mad at her too. She threw her arms around Akane, launching herself on her best friend. She was trying hard not to cry, but it wasn't working. "He can! Oh, God, Akane, he _can_! He's a demon. They don't understand! Those guards understand! He knows exactly where Kagome is! He _can_ find her! He was supposed to help us! Sesshoumaru used me to get to him! They _used_ me to go to Inuyasha and now they keep him leashed and beat him regularly all because he's… he's different!"

Akane comfortingly put her arms around Sango. "Slow down, slow down. It's okay, Sango. What do you mean he knows where Kagome is?"

Sango sniffled. "Demons… especially wolf demons, have the ability to know where their packs are. Kagome is Inuyasha's pack. Sure, he's not a wolf, but he _is_ still a dog. They still have strong familial bonds, if not ones for… you know, marriage. Cats don't have any. We don't have family bonds at all. But dogs do… he can smell out Kagome. He can scent her out. He can! And yet they keep him in there, letting all these bad things happening… Why?"

"I…" Akane was stunned. Finally, she found her words. "I don't know, Sango…"

The doors beeped open. Akane looked up to make sure that the way was clear. She felt her cheeks turn red when she realized that Miroku was standing right _there_ and there she was, holding a sobbing Sango. She watched as Miroku realized who she was holding. His pale grey-blue eyes widened and tentatively, he reached out to stroke her hair down Sango's ponytail.

Her head jerked up when she felt his hand. Sango's tear-filled eyes closed when she saw him. She didn't want to see Miroku and she didn't want Miroku to see her crying like this. Is hand moved against her hair, letting it slip between his fingers in gentle waves. Sango instinctively _knew_ that he was inviting her to use him, to seek comfort in him. She wanted to. Her body all but floated from Akane's to Miroku's. His arms supported her and she clung to him tightly. She couldn't believe what Inuyasha was going through and she dared not imagine Shabranigdo taking over Miroku. His wonderful hands kept brushing her hair.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry that I said that! Please forgive me, Miroku!"

He was silent, stroking her hair and holding her. He didn't say that she was forgiven. What she had said was the truth, and they both knew that. He was a liability; he was weak; he was human. There was no need to forgive her for telling the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

XX

Kisuke Urahara was the one guy in the IBSP that everyone secretly wanted in some way. They wanted him because he was friendly, or because he was smart, or because he was silly. Some of them even thought that he was cute, in a geeky, scruffy kind of way. Kisuke knew about it, and did nothing about it, making them want him all the more.

'Modesty' they called it. Modesty had nothing to with it. Urahara never drew attention to the way girls flirted with him or blushed around him because he knew they liked him for one, or possibly a few things, about him. Only Sango had wanted him because of the person he was and not for the individual qualities he displayed.

Urahara had wanted Sango as well, but it had been up to her to decide who she wanted to date, of course. She had chosen Miroku, and Urahara was forced to accept her choice. It was not, however, done entirely without the acknowledgement that she had made a good choice. Had she decided to date someone who treated her like crap, or who abused her, then Urahara would have forced himself between them in a heartbeat. No one hurt his goddess.

He still loved her, though perhaps not as intently as he had two years ago. It was impossible for him not to love Sango. They had backgrounds that were incredibly similar. He'd watched her grow up. He loved her for how cute she had been at six, the feisty twelve year old, and the calm and rational adult she was now, and the woman she would yet turn into. He loved her when she was human and he loved her when she was in her tiger form. Urahara could not help it the way the sun could not help rising every morning.

Often, it was only years of temperance and experience that at times caused him to refrain from reaching out and touching her the way he'd used to, or to plant a goodbye kiss on her cheek when she left. Instead, he'd pick up his pet cat, and would pet him to avoid the temptation.

What the worst about the entire situation was that Miroku knew how Urahara felt. Rather than begrudge or be jealous of Urahara, Miroku simply remained impassive whenever they met. He did not flaunt who he was dating to spite Urahara, but he also made it clear with his reservation that he did not approve of the way that Urahara continued to look at Sango. Miroku had to know, of course. He was a smart man, well-versed in love himself, and psychic to boot. To Miroku, Urahara's feelings had to be as clear as daylight, while Sango remained peacefully unaware.

It was for this very reason that Miroku had feared and dreaded and put off Kakshi's advice of going and talking to Urahara. He didn't think it was proper, and he didn't want the other man to hurt. Never had it occurred to him that Urahara, being jealous of what Miroku wanted to do, would give him unsound advice on how to ask Sango out. Urahara was too gentlemanly for that. He was too proper and, sometimes, even wise. He would give Miroku the best advice he knew, and it would break his heart to know that Miroku would not only date Sango, but to ask her to marry him as well. Miroku didn't want to put another man through that.

But he was going to try. And then, on his way down, he'd met Sango and held her in the elevator…

Miroku wasn't going to go and see Urahara on advice about wedding proposals. He had a much bigger problem to contend with. Until this one was conquered, Miroku was just going to have to keep the ring in his blazer pocket a little while longer.

The elevator beeped and he stepped off the elevator to what the agents referred to lovingly as the "Bond level". It was where all their equipment had been created. To give an agent permission to go to the Bond level was like Christmas to them: new watches, new bullets, new accessories for their guns… But this wasn't a work call, it was a social call, and Miroku did not need permission.

He stopped a technician who seemed to be playing with a belt. Miroku stood a moment, inspecting it. He was wrapping a thin wire filament into the underside of the belt buckle. The belt, he also noted, was surprisingly feminine looking.

"Do you like it? We're going to add hinges to the belt. When it's activated this hinged part will shoot up and attack itself to something. Then the person wearing the belt just has to pull themselves up."

Miroku smiled at the technician. "What? It won't pull them up for them?" The other man laughed. Miroku leaned over and touched the thread he was winding around. It was as thin as hair. "Will that even hold someone?"

"More than one, in fact. Have you ever heard of a Buckley Ball?"

"No."

"It's an idea that some big-shot proposed of a manufactured molecule made entirely of carbon. How much do you know about carbon? Not much, eh? Well, carbon is an element. Depending on how the carbon is arranged, it has varying strength. Graphite is made entirely of carbon, but there's a very weak molecule structure and as a result, it crumbles very easily. That's what pencils are made of. In comparison, diamonds are made entirely of carbon, but because the carbon molecules are arranged in a different way, giving it a lot of structure, it's rock hard… and harder. Diamonds will cut just about anything. Now, a Buckley Ball in comparison, is shaped like a circle. It's perfect, really. All weight is evenly distributed, there's no weak spots… hence the ball. You ever try popping a baseball or a basketball? It takes a lot of weight for something so small. This little puppy can probably carry… three people? It's not tested yet, of course…"

Miroku looked confused. "How come I haven't heard of this stuff before?"

The technician's smile grew wider and he leaned back proudly in his chair. "Because the rest of the world doesn't know how to make it yet."  
The surprise on his face was priceless. He patted the other man's back. "In that case, I don't think I want to hear anything else in case I slip. I'm looking for Urahara. Is he hanging out cloistered in his office still?"

"Since you started dating Ms Tora? Heh. I think that the guy made himself a bed and sleeps on his desk. He's the one who was able to come up with a manufacturing procedure for this stuff. He says it just came to him one night. Urahara's been working us real hard since Ms Tora stopped coming to see him. Go on in and bug him. He's not against that, he's just… you know… trying to keep his mind off of her."

Nodding understandingly, he thanked the man and went to the office. After being let in, Miroku was quite glad not to see a cot anywhere.

"Miroku? Welcome, welcome," Urahara flamboyantly greeted him. "What can I do for you today?"

Miroku would never be able to understand how people thought that Urahara was attractive. He would never see it. He was always so… wacky. He always wore silly geta sandals, even in inappropriate weather, and gi pants and an overly large coat… and that silly forest green and white hat that always hid his eyes. Underneath it, Miroku suspected, if Urahara ever cleaned himself up then maybe he could understand the girls that cast eyes Urahara's way. It turned out that Urahara had beautiful, clear blue eyes, like those of a Russian blue cat. With his pale skin and sculpted chin, it did give him a certain otherworldly quality. Tall and broad shouldered, he didn't need the geta sandals to give him extra height. And he acted so goofy… he was like a little kid…

Rubbing a hand over his eyes briefly to refresh himself, he wondered why Urahara was staring at him so. Then he realized that the other man's acute senses could probably pick up Sango's tears on his clothes. He helplessly spread his hands. "We had a bit of a fight, Urahara."

"You're not a dumb man, Miroku." Urahara's sudden chill in his otherwise friendly voice made Miroku shiver. Even the cat on the desk twitched his ears and began flicking the end of his tail, picking up on the agitation in the room. To Miroku's empathy, the effect was easily more than doubled. If he had a tail, it would have been lashing. "That's why I'm going to guess that you didn't start this fight, otherwise you wouldn't be here. If you did, I swear to…"

"I'm human," interrupted. He turned away, unable to face Urahara. He began to inspect his bookcase instead, letting his fingers touched the spines of the elderly books to keep his hand busy. He didn't know what to do with them. "We fought because I'm human. I'm not as fast, I'm not as strong… she called me a liability." There was a flash of anger in his mind at the sudden feeling of pity that Urahara gave off before he reeled his emotions back under control. Hearing it would piss anyone off, but when it was two men, raised by society to think that they were the defender…

"She's right, too. I am a liability. I'm not good at unarmed fighting. I always need a weapon. I try to chase down a criminal and I need to stop and use a puffer because of the conditions of my lungs. Sometimes, when it's really hot or cold out, it hurts just to take a deep breath. It feels like little knives are stabbing me. Worse, I talked to Sango… she's going to keep aging, isn't she, Urahara? She didn't mention any numbers but…"

"But you guessed that I was the one who was helping her to run them? Yes, I was." Urahara sat upon the edge of the desk, letting his fingers stroke his pet cat. "I don't recall the numbers, and in theory the results are confidential… but by the time you're an old man, Miroku, Sango will still be in the prime of life."

Urahara was impressed when Miroku didn't show any shock at the results. Maybe, the other man suspected, he'd already known, deep down. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miroku."

"So am I. There's no way to speed down Sango's aging, is there? It's genetic. Even if we could, her mind would still be aging slower. And if _that_ couldn't," he added with a snort of disgust, "I couldn't do it. It would be too much like murder. Sango could have centuries ahead of her, and I would be taking that away from her."

Urahara said nothing, though he was in agreement. He knew that there was something Miroku was getting at…

"I love her," he continued in a small voice, though it grew the more he spoke. "I love Sango. You know that. You love her too. I know you still do, Urahara. I want to marry her. I have the ring and everything." Miroku moved to the desk and took out the ring, showing it to Urahara. "I want to spend my life with her, but I don't want to trap Sango. I don't want her to have to watch me waste away…"

He licked his lips nervously. With Urahara on the desk Miroku could see into those clear-blue eyes, and for once he wasn't picking up a single emotion from them. It made him nervous. "If I want to live with Sango, then there's only one thing I can think of. I need to become a half-demon, too, like Sango. Is there any way, Urahara-san, that I can do that? Can I become a half-demon?"

The dam on those blue eyes broke. All of Urahara's emotion came rushing out, overwhelming Miroku. He tried to speak, but Miroku already knew the answer from those waves of sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, spreading his hands helplessly. "There's nothing I can do. There's only one person with the power to make humans into half-demons. That person is Shabranigdo."

"But… I mean, in movies, you know…"

"Those are movies. This is reality. Unless you were born half-demon, there is no way to become immortal, or a half-demon, or well-aged, or whatever you want to call it, except through Shabranigdo. He has the ability to change people on a genetic level. When he changes people into half-demons, there is no difference between them and someone like Sango or Inuyasha who was born half-demon, with perhaps one exception. Any demon that Shabranigdo creates must feed on humans. Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters… it doesn't matter what type of demon you become, the cost is that you would need humans to live. When that happens, you'd become renegade, Miroku. It would then be our job to capture you, dead or alive."

"But… if I… if _one_ could learn to control it…"

"If there was a human capable of controlling the blood lust, I haven't heard of it yet. But…." Urahara sighed and rubbed his head. The cat beside him mewed, upset that he was ignoring him. "But you make Sango happy. I can't let you go without some kind of hope, Miroku. I'll take some samples of your blood. Maybe we can't turn you into a half-demon, but we'll see what we can do about giving you a long life, at the very least."

Miroku smiled, but it was weak. "Thank you, Urahara."

"Hey. Don't mention it."

XX

Miroku didn't see Sango again until later that evening. They'd gotten a call from Hitomi Kanzaki, telling them that everything was ready. Akane had received the call. Apparently Hitomi doubted how effecting the Tarot reading was going to be, but Akane had easily calmed her down, eased her worries, and told her that even the slightest hint would be wonderful.

As they drove to the house, she pointed out from the driver's seat: "Let's face it. We know that this Group is behind it, but until Edward is ready to talk, we don't know where they meet or how to find them."

Her point was infuriating, mainly because she was correct. According to the students at Merle's school, all of the missing people had two things in common: they were becoming depressed or isolated and they were attending some kind of a group therapy. They had asked around in public places where teens usually hung out, but there was nothing so far. If kids did know anything about this group. A lot of kids knew only to stay away from it, telling them that "it messed with your head".

That, at least, was a good sign. If the word of mouth got it around that this group was bad news, then maybe less people would attend it. Miroku tried to make himself believe that, but it wasn't any use. In the end, a teen's world was ruled by an adult, and adults tended to be less inclined to believe teenagers and children. It always amazed him how children were well aware of the demons lurking around them, under their bed or in their closets, and yet adults turned a blind eye to all the signs and their children's stories.

If an adult decided that their child or teenager should be attending this session, then there was nothing else to do but to send them in. Adults would, if necessary, forcibly march their children inside.

And once a child was inside, there was no turning back. Miroku had seen Shabranigdo's henchmen before. They were hand-picked, and all of them had the same qualities. Besides a streak of ruthlessness underneath a beautiful smile, they were beautiful and seductive without even trying to be. Miroku didn't know if was hormones, pheromones, their aura, or something psychic. All he knew was that those people could charm their way out of anything… or into anyone. That was why they still worked as a group of four. Even if one person became snared by Shabranigdo's follower, they were still three other people there to help break the spell.

But for a lonely teenager? There was no one to save them…

No, there was. There were still them, Miroku pointed out to himself. But the combined abilities of Akane, Miroku, Ranma and Sango were worth nothing if they couldn't find out where they were meeting.

"The rules are such," Hitomi said from the living room. She knelt behind the kitchen table, Van beside her. He gestured for them to take seats around the table while Hitomi shuffled the cards carefully, using her fingertips adeptly to find the corners and make clean cuts. "The cards can not tell you where. They may sometimes be able to tell you who. They may sometimes be able to tell you how. The easiest thing to do is to ask them yes or no questions with the reading we are going to be doing. We're going to be doing the simplest formation."

"What's that?" asked Akane.

"You will ask your question. Whoever asks it will cut the deck. The next three cards will be turned over and will be the answer to your question. Three cards will give us an answer to your question. This way, you will be able to get a somewhat accurate answer and ask more questions. Van will tell me the cards and their position and I will be able to interpret them. Just remember to ask your question out loud so I can hear you."

Hitomi placed the cards on the table and folded her hands in her lap. He posture was perfect as her invisible gaze seemed to touch each one of their faces in turn. "Who will ask first?"

Ranma, sitting at one of the corners reached over and took the desk. "I'll ask first. Practice run for making sure the cards or working right or something," he grumbled. Thinking of something else, he stared at Hitomi and Van. "You two are aware that whatever is said tonight is said in confidentiality, right? Good. Who's responsible for taking the kids?" He cut the deck and turned the new top most card over. "The Devil?"

"Is it upright or upside down, Van?"

"Upside down."

"Hm. I thought so. This would be the card symbolizing Shabranigdo. The Devil is seen in his chariot, being pulled by his slaves. The Devil is depicted as a beast, and also depicted in the picture are two naked figures. One male, and one is female. It depicts someone who is ambitious. Because it's upside down, it's talking about the negative aspects. That is, someone who lets their carnal instincts rule them."

Sango snorted. "Slavery, exuberance, and nudity. Yeah, that sounds like Shabranigdo. Guess that means that the good spirits are listening to us tonight."

Van reached over and touched Hitomi's hand gently as Ranma turned over the next card. "The next card is the Hanged Man. Rightside-up."

It was easy to see how the card got that name. It was rather obvious. The card depicted a young man, rather good-looking, bound and hanging from, of all things, his feet by a branch. Sango peered closer at the card from over Akane. "It… it looks like he's smiling."

"He is," Hitomi said. "The Hanged Man usually stands, among other things, for someone who takes pleasure in pain. He'd being killed, but he rejoices in it. I'm afraid that I don't know who that could be…"

"I do." Sango glanced at the others. Although Akane knew him the best, Ranma and Miroku were both familiar with the man as well. When she glanced at Miroku, she saw that he had come to the same conclusion as she had. His hands were clenched tightly beneath the dark coffee table, and there was a creased frown on his handsome face. He, she knew, was jealous. Sango felt her face flush, wondering why he was jealous. She didn't know if she should be offended that he was jealous of someone she hated or if she should be flattered he was so protective of her.

For Sango, she was leaning towards the latter. She felt a rush of emotion that made her insides shake and her cheeks deepen even more. There was nothing more attractive than a man being dominant. It came from the tiger inside of her. The more another tiger-demon was protective, the more attractive he was to the females of his species. The more likely he was to care for his mate and to ensure his children grew up before he left. Sango forced the feelings away to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Suichiro."

Ranma snapped his fingers. "That's right. That jerk-face is working for Shabranigdo now, isn't he? He hasn't shown his ugly face in years…"

"Good riddance," Miroku snarled as Ranma turned over the last card. Miroku stared at it. Van was already relaying it to Hitomi for interpretation, but Miroku already knew what it mean. It was the King of Swords.

Miroku had had some experience with Tarot cards before. He knew that each suit in the deck was representative of the four elements. The pentacles stood for earth; cups for water; staves or wands for air, and sword for fire. The King of Swords, the king being the strongest of the face cards in any deck of cards, was the master of the fire. A powerful man with strong associations to fire, passion, and the myriad of other things which fire could stand for. One of the lesser known symbols for fire was knowledge. The idea behind it was logical. Fire shed light. Light was a universal symbol for intelligence, shedding away the darkness of obscurity of naivety.

Ergo, the King of Swords stood for the strongest man behind Shabranigdo, and a man of considerable knowledge.

"Rezo."

The others turned to look at him. He was so resolute they didn't need to ask how he'd come to that conclusion. They simply accepted it.

"The only trinity," sighed Akane, staring at the cards. She sighed and took the deck from Ranma. She shuffled it and then cut it. "What do they want with these people?" The first card she turned over was the moon.

Sango thought it looked peaceful: a large full moon complete with craters, and underneath it a howling wolf. If she were a wolf, that would be the type of moon she'd find attractive, she thought. But as Hitomi puzzled over it, Sango began to doubt her assumption about the card. Maybe it wasn't such a nice card. Nice cards, she thought, should be easy to interpret.

"The Moon card symbolizes… insanity, among other things. Its two extremes are genius and madness. The only thing…" She reached out tentatively to touch the card. Van's hand reached out to help guide her. Their fingers entwined lovingly, but the moment her finger touched the edge of the card Hitomi gasped and pulled back. She stuck her fingers in her mouth to ease the pain she felt in them. The card was hot to the touch. She swore she'd been burned by it!

Miroku looked down and realized that in surprise Sango had instinctively reached down and touched his hand. She felt his eyes on her hand and looked down. Blushing, she pulled her hand back as quickly as she could. She folded her hands in her lap, chastising herself.

"Are you okay, Hitomi-san?"

"Let me see it, hon."

"No, I'm okay Van. Don't worry Akane." Despite her words, her face was pale. "Experimentation. Change. Insanity. That's what the card is trying to tell us. He... she… it… whatever that foul creature was that I saw, it's doing… _things_ to people, to change them."

Ranma's eyes were wide in his face. "He's making them in his image. He's making an army."

As Akane and Sango tried to deal with this surprise, Miroku leaned over across the coffee table. "You saw him, Hitomi-san?" She nodded. "He didn't… I mean, there's no reason to think that he's aware we're doing this and putting you or your family in danger, is there?" Instantly the conversation between his three partners stopped.

"N… no, no. I don't… I don't think there is, anyway. I'm not probing his webs or his shields or anything. Anything the cards are showing me is being shown to me… like a reflection. Nothing I'm doing is active." She turned to look at Akane, but Miroku could tell she was still distressed by what she saw. Her face was flushed and there was a light glimmer of sweat on her forehead. "Please, go on Akane."

The second card she turned over was the lovers. Again, Hitomi had to puzzle over it because she could give an answer. "The card symbolizes love. Perfect unity. Normally it's a wonderful card, telling you to go after something because it's _right_. But this… it doesn't seem right… it's… it's corrup…" She stopped mid sentence. Faintly, she smiled before it was lost. "Lust. Corrupt love is lust. They use the people they capture to fulfill their…" Suddenly, she seemed to remember that many of the people missing were children, even younger than her own daughter. Hitomi's voice was barely audible. "They use the people they capture to fulfill their sexual needs."

Sango's voice was flat and cold. "Only natural considering that Shabranigdo likes to use succubae." Miroku reached out to slip his warm hand between hers. She shot him a grateful look. Despite her tough exterior, she was affected by what Hitomi was telling them; she was more affected than even she'd like to believe. After all, once upon a time, that had been her who was being preyed upon by a demon who had grown to like children. Her voice tightened a little. "The last card, Akane."

With a shaking hand, Akane turned over the third card. She wished she had never asked her dumb question. It meant nothing to her as she sat staring at the card. Half an hour later, she couldn't remember the card's face for the life of her, but she could remember Hitomi's interpretation.

"Fulfillment. Satisfaction. Food. Insatiable hunger. Food. They use them for food." Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She kept wiping them away. No one wanted to draw attention to them. Finally, Van had had enough. He knew the four of them were just doing their jobs, but he couldn't stand seeing his wife like this. He placed an arm around her shoulders.

"One more question. Then I'd like to ask you all to leave."

Miroku took the deck of Tarot cards from Akane. "I have a question. We think that a self-help group is being used as a front to lure people into a position where Sharanigdo can abduct them without causing a public disturbance. Now, these cards won't tell us what the group is called, I know that, but it should be able to tell us how we can infiltrate them, won't it?"

"You're a Seer… you don't use the cards very often, do you Miroku?"

He shuffled the deck, concentrating on his question. "Fuu and Ferio got me a pack when I was younger. I never really liked using them very much, but I didn't tell them. I find that scrying using a bowl of water is much more effective than cards, but I don't like looking at the future. It uses too much of my energy, I'm not very good at it, and I lack a natural talent at it. The only thing I can see are auras, and even then, ever since those drugs stopped being pumped into my system, I haven't seen anything except for really strong feelings."

His eyes glanced towards Sango as he said the last part. Sango's emotions were almost always strong. She never felt anything on a small scale. Even if the rest of his talents faded, he'd always be able to see the changing colors of Sango's auras. Whenever he teased her and told her that she lighted up his life, he hadn't been joking.

Miroku didn't really like being called a Seer. Seers usually _saw_ things. Miroku saw very little. He was not a fortune teller, nor did he predict the future. All he did was read people. For all of his psychic powers, he might as well have been simply picked for his ability to manipulate words, they were that much of a contribution to the group.

"How can we infiltrate the group?" Miroku asked the cards. He turned the first card over. Beside him, he heard Sango gasp a little when he turned over the Death card.

Hitomi smiled wearily. "A gasp. The death card, right? I thought so. It's really been overdone by the media. Death does not mean death. It symbolizes change. It's the death of a way of life, or a thought, not of a person. It's telling you that to get into this group, you need to change."

"Change? Change what?" Ranma asked.

"I'm sorry." Hitomi sighed and spread her hands wide helplessly. "That's what the card means, and that's all it's telling me. I can try to determine more…" She reached out and touched the card again.

Miroku could see the strain on her face. He wished that he were still holding Sango's hand. With a gasp, her eyes suddenly snapped open. _Open._ Black holes of nothingness stared at Miroku. Ranma and Akane jumped in shock. Sango and Miroku remained steadfast. Miroku was barely even noticing. He was being pulled into those black, fathomless eyes, enticed by the strange throaty voice Hitomi was using. Blackness, blackness everywhere! Only the cards in his hands and the cards floating in front of him… He suddenly got the idea that she was talking solely to him. There was, after all, no one else in the strange blackness.

"Sacrifice."

Miroku blinked. "Sacrifice what?"

"I only _SEE_. _YOU_ Asked the _QUESTION. It is YOU who should Know the ANSWER._ Sacrifice!" she hissed. "TURN the next Card!"

He obeyed. The card of Strength stared up at him.

"The _SACRIFICE_ Must be Strong. Not PHYS-ic-CAL. _BRAVE. Be Strong. Be BRAVE and the SACRIFICE May OVER-come. TURN the next Card!"_

He turned over the card of Judgment. His heart raced in panic. Judgment did not sound happy. What if… the sacrifice really was a sacrifice and the cards were predicting judgment by his maker?

"FEAR _not. Be BRAVE, like SACRIFICE._"

"Yes," he said in a shaking voice. "I understand. I will try to be brave."

He had the distinct feeling that she was nodding, pleased with his acquiescent nature. There was a feeling of age in the strange voice speaking through Hitomi. Miroku felt very insignificant. "_The Card of JUDGEMENT does not mean the End, Lamb. It means RESURRECTION!"_ The word thundered painfully across his mind. "_Do you not SEE? YOU should! It is YOU who should Know the ANSWERS. YOU asked the QUESTION. To join this, THE GROUP, One must become the SACRIFICE. He must persevere with BRAVERY and then comes the RESURRECTION. Always, always, ALWAYS after SACRIFICE come RESURRECTION!"_

He didn't know if he could ask more question from the Deck. That, he realized, was who he was talking to. Not Hitomi. The Deck was talking to him. He still held the cards in his hands. He began shuffling them. "What?" His head hurt. He felt rising panic as the darkness began to close in around him. He could not feel his feet. Looking down, he could no longer see them. "What must be sacrificed?"

The Tarot laughed at him. He heard voices laughing at him from all around him: some old, some young, some male, some female, and some distinctly not human at all. He knew how many. Seventy-six: the exact same number of cards in a Tarot deck.

"_YOU ask the Question. The Answer is for YOU as well, Lamby-kins. YOU are the SACRIFICE. Lest the Road YOU tread CHANGES, YOU ARE the SEACRIFICE."_ His friends faces rose fleetingly to his mind before the pain drove them away. "_If the road changes, One of THEM will be SACRIFICE."_

"I won't let that happen! What must I sacrifice?"

The voices of the Tarot laughed again. "_EVERYTHING and yet NOTHING. This can not be Foretold. There is TOO much. TOO many SACRFICES for you to Make. All WE can SEE is this._" From nowhere, the card of the Lovers appeared in his hand. "_YOU will LOSE this. Maybe it be Your HEART. Maybe it be Your SOUL. Maybe this be SACRIFICE to enter THE GROUP. Maybe no. Future not set in Stone. May CHANGE. Maybe no CHANGE. All We SEE is this. This be KEY. May not CHANGE. Hinge. Lever. Stone. KEY. IMMOVEABLE._"

"Sango… I have to give up Sango?" He crumpled the card in his hand. Miroku threw it away. The card was absorbed by the darkness. "I'm never going to give up Sango! Never! I love her! She loves me!"

"IMMOVEABLE!"

"No!" Miroku turned the next card over. It was the Death card. "No!" The card of Strength. "No!" The card of Judgment. Death. Strength. Judgment. Death. Strength. "No! No!"

The darkness was rushing up to him. He could no longer see the cards. He could no longer see his hands. He was still crying out to the cards, lashing out with an anger he hadn't known before. He felt his hands suddenly as his tightly clenched fists caused his nails to break the skin of his palm. He felt his teeth still. They were cutting his lips. Terrified, he brought his hands up to his lips, feeling and tasting the blood. Darkness was swimming up to his chin. He was drowning in it. It felt like freezing water, numbing him. His numb fingertips could still feel his teeth. The slick blood he felt on them were as hot as fire to his skin. They were long, and sharp, and slightly curved, and when his tongue felt the tip his whole body shuddered with painful, illicit pleasure.

He didn't have the time to think the word. He didn't have time to give a name to himself. All he had time to do was recollect that strange nightmare from the morning before, where he had dreamt of Sango's body under him, and his teeth plunging into her neck…

XxXxXxX

"Are you okay?" Sango asked. Miroku's eyes shot open, startled. He realized he was still sitting at the coffee table. Hitomi's eyes were closed and she seemed just as dizzy as he felt. Sango leaned under him, looking up at him with eyes of liquid gold surrounded by burnished coppery lashes. She was a sight for sore eyes. "Miroku?"

He gingerly reached out to touch her face. Her cheek was soft and pleasantly warm to the touch. He saw a smile beginning to appear before she smelt the blood. She pulled his hand away and stared at it. "Miroku, you're bleeding!"

"When did you do that?" Ranma snorted. "Jeeze, you're more of a klutz than Akane. Oof!" Miroku flashed Akane a smile of thanks for elbowing Ranma for him. She winked back at him.

"God, I can't wait to go to bed." Sango released Miroku's hand after a thorough inspection. Apparently she'd decided that the wounds weren't life threatening or in need of stitches. "This has been such a weird day… Miroku zoning out and flipping over cards like crazy…"

He felt like a shot had been fired right by his ear. Miroku jerked to attention. So, he noticed, did Hitomi.

"Wha… what did you say?" she asked.

Van brushed her dark hair. "Don't you remember, love? You kind of seemed to zone out for a second, and then Miroku started going wild, flipping over cards. You called out their names without me to see them for you. Weirdest thing too. They were all the same three cards. Every single one of the cards left in the deck came up the cards of Death, Strength, and Judgment."

"But… but that's impossible."

All the cards were laying face down on the coffee table. Miroku didn't want to look, but he felt as if he could just see the card for himself, he'd see it was all just a big mistake. His hand began to inch towards the table…

BANG!

"Van-sama! Hitomi! I'm home!" The door had slammed behind Merle as she came home from school.

"Merle, how many times have I told you not to slam that damn door?" Van yelled at her. He then immediately regretted it, recalling that he had guests in the house.

Merle leaned around to peer into the living room from the kitchen. She was all smiles, contrary to what Miroku remembered of her from a few short days ago. "Sorry. Sakura came over. We have an English test tomorrow, so we want to do some late night cramming. I got a little bit carried away… RANMA!"

Her smile had been so wide that she hadn't noticed the four guests crammed around the kitchen table. When she did noticed them, she launched straight into Ranma's lap. Only his quick reflexes saved him from being squished as he caught her. "Ranma! Why don't you ever come over and play? You never write! At least Akane-chan writes to me to make sure I'm okay. You don't do anything!"

Merle seemed suddenly eight years old again, chastising Ranma. He sheepishly looked around for aid, but there was none to be found. "Well, Miroku and Sango never called you either!"

"I see Sango all the time!" Merle chirped.

Sango could barely contain her laughter. "She does. Merle goes and attends training twice a night to help with her little… problem."

"Problem? What problem? There's a problem?" Ranma looked back at Merle to see that there was a distinctly large, furry, and stripped tail coming out from underneath her skirt. Instantly he began to pale and try to untangle himself from her. "Ri… right. _That_."

"Miroku never played with me. Van-sama is always so careful… but you! You're tough! I could really let myself go around you!"

"Please don't! I'd ra… rather you didn't!"

Merle stopped, but not because he had asked her. Her nose twitched. "Hey. You four are all from the IBSP. Is that why there's that car full of people parked across the street? Are we being monitored? Are we being bugged? Are we?"

The lively mood which had accompanied Merle into the living room was suddenly killed. Ranma stopped fighting off Merle, and actually placed an arm around her waist, ready to move her out of danger if someone gave the key word. Sango's claws sunk out of their sheaths and she concentrated on her senses. Beside her, Miroku's hand reached for his gun to make sure it was safe. There was a barely audible click in the still room as he switched off the safety. Van and Hitomi were still, well aware of the change within their guests. Their entire demeanors had changed. Van tightened his grip on his wife as Ranma had on Merle, getting ready to take her out of danger. He shot Ranma a glance of relief for taking care of their daughter.

Only Akane did not seem to change. She was rooted; she was always rooted. That was her defense. "Merle," she said. "We came alone."

Merle never got a chance to answer as the front door of the house exploded open and five people barged into the room.

And then chaos erupted.

XxXxXxX

To be conitnued...


	12. The Battle

AN: I like to think of this chapter as my greatest fight scene I've written yet. Working with so many people was a little difficult, but after a minute or two the words began to flow. I hope you find it as enjoyable to read as I did to write.

Chapter Eleven: The Battle

As soon as the front door exploded, people launched into their pre-determined acts. Sango rushed as soon as the door exploded, her claws ready to rip and tear. Miroku pulled out his gun, using his other hand to get another bullet cartridge ready. Like flowing liquid, he stood up in one swift movement. Ranma's arms tightened around Merle and he bolted for the kitchen. Van was right behind him, Hitomi tucked carefully under his arm.

Akane's reaction, displayed the most ingenuity. Sango froze when she realized that behind the fading smoke, her enemies were armed with guns. Two of them were male; both held firearms. They smiled and were about to open fire when a coffee table suddenly hurtled at them from across the living room. Caught off guard, they were both struck from the side, bowling them over. The other three enemies were women holding what appeared to be balls of fire. Seeing Sango vulnerable and without cover, they hurled the balls at her. As soon as they came near Sango the fireballs were extinguished, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Miroku had no time to praise Sango's growing talent at controlling fire. One of the men had gotten up. Miroku hid behind the couch and took careful aim. The throwback from the gun made his wrist ache, but he was a steady shot. He watched as the man's heart and lungs splattered against the wall behind him. The armed man looked down in surprise and remained standing.

"_Shit_. Sango! Vampire!" He could not hear it when she cursed, but he saw a mouth move. They didn't have the ammunition to take on a vampire.

The other man had dropped his gun and was on all fours. His clothes were shredding, large handfuls of coarse grey fur appearing between the widening cracks. Miroku's blue-grey eyes were wide. They definitely didn't have anything to take on a _werewolf_ either! Worse, the three witches were no longer summoning fire, but ice! Miroku fired a bullet in their direction, ignoring the sting emotional of pain when he remembered he'd been taught to never strike down a girl. In its stead was the driving need to protect Sango. The bullet merely slowed down as it reached the witches, reaching a crawl before it dropped to the ground, wrapped in a fine layer of ice.

Miroku was thinking they were just a little in over their heads. He could call for help, but they couldn't be here fast enough.

XxXxXxX

In the kitchen, Sakura looked petrified, though she tried hard to reign her fear in under control. "What's going on?" She jumped when she heard the sound of something heavy breaking apart.

Ranma put down Merle. She immediately dove for the door to the living room and Ranma had to lunge to stop her. For his concern he got a series of claws in his arms. "Let me go!" she cried. The words were still clear even though she had to speak around a set of quickly growing fangs. Her stripped tail whipped about, terrifying Ranma, but he still held on. "I can help! I can fight too!"

"You're just a little girl!" Ranma snapped. She glared at him. "They _take_ children! They do things with them… that you can't even understand!"

Sakura's ears seemed to perk up. She narrowed her eyes at him. For the first time Ranma seemed to acknowledge her He pushed away the fact that she wasn't freaking out over her friend suddenly developing ears and a tail to ponder over some other time. Her face was a furious red, offsetting her pink hair. "What aren't we supposed to understand? Assault? Eating us? Abusing us? Raping us? How about using telepathy to rip our minds to shreds to make us subservient? We're not supposed to understand that? I don't know where you live, Ranma-san, but back here in _reality_ not only do some of us understand it, we've _lived_ through it."

Her blue eyes were fierce. They met Merle's killing edge step for step. Ranma felt his arms slacken. "Those are the people who killed Al, aren't they?" she demanded.

"Yes," Ranma said without thinking.

Van spoke, drawing Merle's attention from Ranma. "Merle. I am going to stay and fight. I need you to look after Hitomi. Get her out of here. Take Sakura too. Go down the street and stay with Minako. You'll be safe there."

From the living room there was a snarl that was more cat then human. They heard Miroku shout some kind of a warning, and then a body was flung into the kitchen from the living room—and straight through the wall which had divided them. Ranma's heart skipped several beats when he saw it was Akane. She was coated with a layer of drywall dust, but she was still awake. She didn't even realize Ranma was two feet from her as she slowly got up, rubbing a stiff and sore shoulder, mumbling under her breath. Ranma was sure he'd heard the word 'bitch' in there somewhere.

Merle and Sakura took one look at each other and bolted-straight into the living room. The two men watched in horror as they stared through the new hole in the wall. Sango was in her tiger form and battling with a werewolf. Akane was in the middle of a fight against three witches. Miroku was wresting with a vampire, and losing—badly. The girls tore around the corner and, yelling a battle cry. Merle pounced on the werewolf when it flung Sango away. She landed on his back, tearing and biting. The wolf howled in pain and reared on human-like legs, trying to dislodge Merle. Sakura ran into the foray with Akane, delivering a kick to send one of the witches rolling away. Her hands in the air, she yelled something and for a moment the air around Akane seemed to intensify.

Ranma glanced at Van apologetically. "Take Hitomi and run."

Both of them looked shocked he'd suggested such a thing. Van was the one who managed to speak first. "That's our _daughter_ fighting in there."

"And that's my fiancée fighting outnumbered and my best friend wrestling a fucking vampire!" His yell made the kitchen utensils on the counter clatter. Ranma was _pissed_. "I'm not going to stay and fight with you when those two girls are out there while we're outnumbered and we could honestly use their help! Either stay or leave. I don't particularly care which one it is, but we'd better get this fight over with sooner rather than later!" Ranma dove into the fight.

Van glanced down at Hitomi. Both of them knew they'd stay. There was never any doubt of that when Merle was involved. He pushed her towards the basement with enough force to know that she shouldn't object. Van's body was tense. He wanted to spill blood; lots of it.

"You'd only get in the way," he said, as gently as he could. "Stay there where it's safe. I'll be back soon, Hitomi."

"Van?" He glanced back at her before he shut the door to the basement. In the bleak darkness, her face was ghost-white with worry. "Protect Merle."

He smiled at her. "With my life."

XxXxXxX

"Stay within the circle," Sakura told Akane as they watched the three women circle them.

"What?" She glanced over her shoulder too Sakura behind her, reaching up to her shoulder to touch it probingly. It stung for a moment and then it was no longer bleeding. Akane turned back to face the witches who circled her. She made a mental note to query Sakura later.

One of the witches laughed. "A little witch!" she squealed in delight, clapping her hands. "Oh, look! Isn't she adorable?"

"She's an annoyance!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were a witch?" Akane demanded over her shoulder.

Judging from her tone of voice, Sakura seemed to be smiling. "You never asked me. I'll handle defense if you think you can take care of these guys."

It was Akane's turn to smile. She mentally apologized to Van and Hitomi for the damage she knew she was about to inflict on their house. "Let's see how _they _like being thrown into a wall."

There was no defense for the three witches as Akane's mind closed around them and plucked them into the air. Combined, their power had been sufficient enough to throw her _through_ a wall. By herself, holding three witches, they barely made a dent as they struck the wall over the couch. Their bodies bounced off and they got up, but slowly. They weren't trained fighters like Akane was; they didn't know how to take a hit.

She felt a brief moment of exhilaration. For a moment Akane dreamed they could come out of the battle unscathed. She was blatantly ignoring how she was panting from exertion. She wasn't used to throwing such weight, or so many bodies. She also ignored the blood matting in her hair, itching her scalp. Reaching out with her mind, Akane relentlessly tried to pick the witches up again. They picked her and Sakura up. Akane had the strangest sensation of her power ricocheting back at her as she whipped through the air. The glass window dominated her vision. She released her psychic hold on the witches and grabbed for a struggling Sakura, trying to brace the impact from the girl's smaller body. She had just gotten Sakura's body in front of hers, her back ready to take the brunt of the blow, when she hit the window.

XxXxXxX

Saliva dripped down between the werewolf's long fangs. Sango lashed out, her claws severing many of the long whisker's on the wolf's face. She tried to back up more and couldn't. A tiger was large, but werewolves, except on the full moon, were never entirely wolf. Instead they retained their human forms—or some of it. He had height over her, and the bastard was using it to his advantage. The small room had become a major problem for Sango. Sango cursed, and cursed the werewolf which kept her from getting to Miroku.

She snuck a quick glance at him. The vampire pounced on him and Miroku delivered a kick at him that sent the vampire crashing into the television. Unfortunately, the shards of glass only served to make the vampire angry. With a ferocious snarl that even made Sango jealous of its strength, he seized Miroku by one arm and flung him over his shoulder, pummeling him into the ground. Miroku didn't block the fall and he absorbed the full impact of his body being flung into the floor. The vampire, without letting go of his hand, pinned him with his body.

He struggled to get up—oh he struggled! The vampire merely smiled sadistically and applied pressure on the twisted arm he held and Miroku stopped from the pain. The way he cried out made Sango's blood boil.

She turned back to the werewolf with renewed vigor. She attacked in a series of sweeps and advances that made _him_ back up. As satisfying as it was to see his ears pull back against his head to keep him from losing one, her attacks weren't landing, and her claws, though capable of disemboweling him, might not kill him. But disemboweling him _would_ keep him down for a good many hours. She tried to leap for him, to get some height, but his arm caught her mid air and sent her tumbling into the wall.

Then something else pounced on the werewolf. Sango took a moment for her fuzzy, blood-lusting mind to realize it was Merle. Underneath the blood lust, she felt a tremor of worry for the girl before she realized that the added strength would help the werewolf go down twice as fast.

She _needed _to get to Miroku. _I can't let him die! I can't! _

The werewolf pulled Merle off and threw her into Sango. Merle twisted in the air and landed on Sango without causing either of them harm. The werewolf, thinking they'd be knocked over, was already coming in, gaping jaws wide. Sango used her larger, feline body to push Merle out of the way, sheltering her with her body. The jaws of the werewolf clamped down on her shoulder savagely and Sango howled in pain, but she held her ground. Her tail lashed behind her, a black and orange whirlwind. If she could just get her hands on the wolf, she'd rip them in two…

_Merle! Go for the stomach or the neck_!

Merle looked up at Sango with a face that was still mostly human. Her large cornflower blue eyes seemed horrified. She understood what Sango was telling her: take him down; get him off me; kill him. Then resolve settled in so quickly and with such cold and brutal determination that despite the younger girl's lack of experience in fighting, Sango felt happy to have the girl on her side.

There was no snarl as Merle attacked this time. The werewolf was struggling to keep close to Sango's body. Her tiger form didn't allow her to swipe at him from his current position and he was using muscle to keep it that way. Sango was pushing back against him to keep him from pushing down unto the ground. She knew that with his superior height and mobility that if she went down on the ground now, the fight might very well be over.

XxXxXxXxX

His arm was filled with nothing but pain; pain so intense he was blinded by the tears in his eyes. Miroku cried out, and he could hear how the vampire laughed at him. God, how he hated vampires! He tried to lift his leg to knee the vampire. Even being undead, that still hurt a man. The vampire simply applied more pressure to the arm and Miroku cried out again, letting his body lie still. If he struggled, the vampire was just going to apply more pressure to the arm until he broke it. At this angle, Miroku knew just how it would break. Fracture. The bone would burst right from the skin.

Sure, there'd be endorphins suddenly swimming through his body to numb the pain and the shock, but Miroku didn't want that. He didn't want to break his arm for a good many reasons. What did he have that could possibly fight a vampire? He was pinned! He didn't have Sango's flexibility or Ranma's strength or Sango's claws… he just had his brains.

He glanced around, forcing his eyes open. The threatened to shut again as the vampire shifted, pinning down his other hand with his knee and gripping Miroku by his hair to pull back his head. Miroku's heart erupted when he saw that mouth open and the long, slender fangs suddenly descend. Something! There had to be _something_!

Miroku never got the chance to even look around for a weapon. A shadow flew over him and kicked the vampire in the chest where Miroku had shot him only moments before. The vampire howled as he was pushed away. Ranma landed over him, graceful and ferocious. "Lay off my best friend!"

Miroku scrambled up off the floor, rubbing his neck. "Thanks…"

"You okay?" Ranma never took his eyes off of the vampire.

"Yeah… but I'm never going to be able to get his breath off of my neck." He rubbed at his neck, trying to rub away the fetid, coppery smell of blood that clung to him. Miroku settled down behind Ranma.

"You should get Hitomi out. She's hiding in the basement."

Miroku's face turned stubborn. "I'm not leaving this fight when you guys are outnum…"

A rumbling sound cut him off. The others glanced around. Their opponents looked gleeful at the sound. The vampire, in particular, as he smiled at Miroku. "I'll get you yet," he promised. "I'll pay you back for shooting me, asshole. Let's see how you like being shot in the knee and left to live. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be _begging_ for me to end the pain."

His expression looked like he'd eaten something disdainful, but his voice was full of venom. "I hope that you choke on a garlic clove and die." He quickly glanced around and retrieved two long pieces of the wooden table Akane had thrown earlier. He tossed one to Ranma. Miroku didn't even flinch when he felt a splinter work up under his nail. Both of them sunk down together into a fighting stance. They'd never win offensively, but if they made the vampire mad enough to forget he was fighting _two_ of them…

XxXxXxX

The window rushed up at Akane. She felt herself strike the pane of glass, but it never broke it. In her arms, Sakura was breathing heavily. The pane of glass suddenly bent to accommodate them, as if it were made of warm plastic. They rolled harmlessly off of it, and Akane's quick reflexes helped her to land on her feet. She stared in shock at the glass while the witches were still struggling to get up from landing against a wall.

"I never even thought to use my power…" she heard herself mutter. Her arms released Sakura, who stood, fatigued and weary. Akane looked down at the young girl. _Something_ had made that glass move like that, and Akane knew it wasn't her. She wanted to ask Sakura if it was her, but there was no time to waste.

The ground began to rumble. From their spot at the window, they could see the cars suddenly pilling up out front, filling the street and the Kanzaki's front lawn. People poured out of the vehicles: witches, vampire, shape-shifters, and-god help them—an illithid and several creatures Akane could not recognize yet. Shabranigdo was throwing all of his forces into this one!

Akane glanced back down at the girl in front of her, swaying on her feet, and made the quick connection. Hitomi's power was sight. That wasn't much of a power. If they were after the IBSP members, then they could have grabbed them some other time. Van had wings—special, yes, but nothing that required so many people to grab them. Merle was amazing for her age, and Van should be proud of her ability to protect herself, but again, nothing that needed this many people to capture.

But Sakura? Sakura, who proved herself to be a healer and capable of erecting shields and god only knew what else…?

Akane gripped her by her shoulders. She was yelling—but she hadn't meant to yell. "Sakura! Sakura, listen to me! Are you a member of if the IBSP?"

She nodded her head. "I'm in training. My partner… she…" Sakura became choked up. "She was taken, by _them_ two weeks ago. First her, then Alphonse, and now they want Merle… well, I'm not going to let them take anyone else I care about!"

Akane could see everything suddenly clicking into place. A young girl from IBSP taken for god knows what else, and all those psychic vampires and Shabranigo himself to read her dying thoughts. All they'd need is a single memory of Sakura to know that there was another young girl they could break, or even rebuild into a psychic warrior of their own to throw back against the IBSP.

"Sakura, what's your power?"

She shifted nervously. "I… I can manipulate molecules," she said. "I can alter a substance's molecules to make it thick as a shield, like the air around us, or to make something breakable turn malleable."

The floor seemed to disappear under Akane's feet. Good _God!_ Yes, Shabranigdo _would_ go to this length to capture a girl with such an amazing talent! What could they do with a talent like that? No door would be safe… _Jesus! If Shabranigdo got a hold of Merle and she ended up using her powers on a living _person…

Her hand gripped Sakura's. "I've got to get you out of here."

"I'm not leaving without Merle!"

"Sakura!" she snapped. "Don't you get it? They're after you!"

Her face paled. "M… me? Why would they be after me?"

She tried to run, and got stuck straight in the chest with a fireball. It singed her clothes, but the shield that Sakura had erected around them was still intact, absorbing most of the damage. The witches were standing. "Don't think that you're leaving so soon, bitch! We have unfinished business!"

They never saw the attack coming in from behind. Van swooped down on them. In his hand he held a katana. The weapon was still in beautiful condition, but a few nicks and scratches indicated that it had seen use before. In one clean blow, one of the witches head went rolling from her head. Sakura let out a squeak of fear as blood gushed out in a violent spray. Van's shirt, once freshly pressed and white, was soaked with blood.

Glancing up at Akane, his eyes told her what he didn't have time to say. He told her to get them out. Akane's grip tightened on Sakura's wrist so hard the younger girl let out a small sound of pain. She released her grip, but not a lot. Van could take care of the witches.

"Merle!"

XxXxXxX

Merle had never killed someone. She had spilt blood in anger before, but always in self protection. Sometimes, it had even been accidental. Other times it had been in a fury. This was the only time that she'd ever been about to it in cold blood. Merle knew what she was doing. She knew what she was _going_ to do.

She moved swiftly and silently. It took less than a second for her to move in close enough to bite. In one swift move she locked her still-human arms around the werewolf's body and lifted her legs. She planted her feet against his chest, her back claws unsheathed. The wolf had released Sango from his jaws and his hands tried to pull her off, but Merle was on there. It was too late. Her toes lashed in, and Merle kicked.

She never felt the blood as it seeped down her legs and matted in the fine layer of fur covering her body. She could smell it, though. It stank. Blood _stank_. The werewolf screamed in agony, and ran into the nearest wall. He smashed Merle against it to shake her off, and she felt her body tighten. She willingly let go and collapsed into the darkness that licked the edges of her vision. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to _breathe_…

Sango stood up shakily on all fours. She didn't have the energy left to give animation to her tail. It hung lifelessly between her rear legs. Blood dripped down on the floor from her shoulder. She cried out Merle's name, but the girl didn't move. Sango took little satisfaction in seeing how injured the werewolf was. Merle had done her best to disembowel their enemy, but she had no practice at it, only instinct. Instinct had not been enough. There were ten long scratches against the werewolf's stomach. They were deep. He favored his stomach in the way he stood, letting one hand protect them from further injury, but it had not been deep enough to kill him.

_Merle…_

Sango roared. She launched herself at the werewolf and was kicked in the head for it. The floor and the ceiling were indistinguishable from one another as she rolled. When she landed, Sango's instinct overrode her body's desire to lay there and heal. She let the predator inside of her take over.

She attacked without thinking. She dodged and was struck without realizing her wounds. She didn't think about Akane or Miroku or Merle. She thought only of her own survival, and that meant killing the werewolf in front of her.

She'd heard it called blood lust. She'd heard it called the killing edge. She didn't know what it was, just that it was _good_. Her body and mind were numb to everything: numb to the blood on the ground that was hers, and numb to the way his blood seeped down her neck and throat and she tore into his body. She held him down while someone with a sword finished him off from behind. She didn't know who it was, only that she sensed something inside of him reflected back at her. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

He was just as crazed as she was for the kill, the need to defend. Sango turned her back on him to face the wave of people that were coming in from the doorway. She heard guns go off, but she didn't think that they were hitting her. Then one struck her chest as she reared.

That she felt, even through the pain. The pain didn't go away. It hurt. It hurt to breathe. The cloud of rage began to clear from her mind as she stumbled backwards, trying to avoid incoming blows. Her animal form began to dissolve. She didn't know why. Half-tiger and half-human, Sango felt herself trip over something. Things seemed to come to her in a haze. It was a man… who looked kind of like a wolf. His head was laying beside his body, and it looked like a large animal had brought him down, gnawing at his arm until the bone was visible through the matted flesh…

She turned to her other side, and saw Miroku rushing towards her. She smiled at him. It was going to be all right. She knew it was. She was stronger than he was. She was a half-demon, after all. She tried to tell him that it was going to be okay, but her lips wouldn't move. Puzzled, Sango didn't understand it when Miroku fell beside her, crying.

"Sango! Sango!"

She watched the tears drip down his face. The ground shook again, but everything seemed to not care… Everything was all moving so fast, except for Miroku. Pleasant Miroku. Perverted Miroku. Beautiful Miroku.

She lifted her hand and dried his tears. Her touch left behind a streak of blood on his strained face. She could see the rage building up beneath him. Even as she lay bleeding in his arms, she admired the way he dominated his anger. It made him so easy to get a long, and so beautiful and rare when he let it show.

She licked her lips. Sango put everything she could into her words. "I thought I was going to lose you again," she whispered. Her words sounded strange.

Miroku showed her a beautiful and dazzling smile. He held her closer. "Sango, you've never lost me."

He was right, of course. When was Miroku wrong? Sango closed her eyes, accepting his answer. Somehow, the pain in her chest seemed lighter now…

XxXxXxX

"Sango! _Sango!_"

"Get her out of here!" Ranma yelled as he used the broken table leg to stab another vampire.

He whipped his head around to snarl at the man trying to protect them. "They shot her in the chest! I want retribution!"

"Trust a geek like you to use big words in a fight! What are you going to do, Miroku? Read them their auras until they die from boredom? You're not a fighter! Now make yourself useful and get Sango the fuck out of here!"

The next thing he knew, Van stood over them. Panting and out of breath, van looked the worst for wear. His shirt was shredded and hung from him in tatters. His expansive chest was streaked with blood both foreign and his own. His knuckles were white from holding his sword.

"You can't do much either, Ranma. Fists won't kill a vampire, nor a steak an illithid. Anything can die from beheading. Take my wife and go. I'll hold them back and then grab Merle and come with you."

Ranma wasn't going to argue. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were losing, and badly. He nodded, and dove back for Van to take his place. Miroku scooped Sango up into his arms and followed Ranma.

He went straight for the kitchen and to the door to the basement. Hitomi looked up in surprise and Ranma felt like a ghost had walked over his grave when she smiled at him. Even blind, she still recognized him. No matter how long he spent with them, psychics would creep him out.

"Van?"

Ranma would have been an idiot to miss the note of concern in her voice. He reached out and picked up her, hoisting her on his back. He was a fast runner, and Hitomi was surprisingly light. She didn't complain at all, except to gasp at the strange sensation of a man other than Van carrying her. "He's getting Merle. We'll meet up later."

Her hands tightened around his shoulders as he started running. Miroku had shifted Sango to carry her in the same way. It was a good thing, Ranma thought, that Sango was unconscious, however. If she knew that Miroku had used his belt to tie her hands together so he could sling her over his back and support her by her legs, she'd have kittens. Ranma didn't like the worry on his friends' face.

"…you're not going to grope her, are you?" Miroku shot him a look. "Just making sure. Come on. I can feel Akane. She's gone this way."

No one followed them as they fled from the house. They could hear sirens coming. Apparently one of Van's neighbors had finally decided to call the cops. They just hoped that Van could get out of their soon. Otherwise he was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

XxXxXxX

There was something to be said for having something physically different about yourself. Sango would have understood. People see that you can change your form and they think suddenly that shape-changing is your power, that there's nothing else you can do. Van liked it that way. Nobody was expecting it when they opened fire and the bullets bounced off a shield he had created around himself. Van began fighting his way over to where Merle lay. Nothing stopped him. He cut through limbs and necks and bodies without a care.

He did what he would need to do to keep Merle safe. If that meant fighting them to the very last man or using his dying body to protect her and hide her, then the cost was worth it. He would have felt the same way for Hitomi. There was no price too high to keep them alive and well. Not even his own soul.

Merle still had not moved. He picked her up and felt her body shift. She had some broken ribs. He'd have to be careful of them. Sheathing his sword and his daughter braced under his arm, Van spread his wings. He could create shields, but they wouldn't be enough to cover his wings… he had to get out quickly.

The mob was dispersing. He could hear police sirens drawing closer. Van ran to the back of the house, his great white wings tight behind him. Spreading them after he cleared the back door, he beat them. They hoisted he and Merle into the sky, slowly but steadily. He smiled, reveling at the freedom of the sky, endless and abounding with stars.

He thought he'd done it. He'd thought that everybody was out. He had thought that he'd come out victorious! And then someone got off a lucky shot. A bullet ripped through the joint in his wing. He cried out in pain and began plummeting to the ground. As the wind rushed by him he thought he heard Hitomi calling out his name, panicked and worried… but it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He rolled in the air. He _had_ to land on his back. He _had_ to! If he landed on his front, the weight of the impact would crush Merle! He _had…_

He landed on his back. He felt his other wing snap. Pain made his vision fuzzy, but he could still hear feet approaching him. Someone kicked his head, thought not out of cruelty. They just wanted to see his face.

"This is the one she wanted."

"If he wakes up, those wings could be a problem."

"Well tie them up."

Inside his mind, Van cried out, cursing and begging for divine intervention. Tying his wings would hurt. He couldn't hide them back in his body when they were injured. They'd have to remain out until the hollow bones of his crumpled wings healed. If they were bound incorrectly, the healing would begin incorrectly and then... then he might never be able to open or even _spread_ them again…

"The bitches looked alike. This is the one we want, right? She only said that his daughter had pink hair and was a little hellion. She never told us how to distinguish between the two."

One of the figures bent over and picked Merle out of his arms, holding her by her hair. The pain was enough for Merle to start coming too again. The man held her there until her eyes opened. Merle found herself staring down at her foster father, and tears welled up in her eyes.

_His wings… oh _God_, his wings!_

"What's your name? Hm? Identify yourself you little bitch!"

Merle winced when he shook her. Snarling and curling her lip, she tried to kick him. She got him good in the groin, right where it hurt. The man released her and the other man grabbed her before she could get away. He smacked her hard against her neck, hard enough to knock her out again. The man on the ground wheezing in pain managed to laugh.

"She's a hellion all right. We'll take her with us. He must have some attachment to her, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to protect her. If the boss doesn't want her, then _I'll_ take her. I'd love to pay her back for what the little slut did to me…"

"Just as long as you leave enough blood in her so that I can have a little snack. We were the ones who shot him down, after all. Why shouldn't we _both_ enjoy the prize?"

The man smiled. Van's couldn't see much anymore. He wished he had lost consciousness earlier, or that it cleared enough to see their faces. When he got out, when he was able to fight again, he was going to cut out the bastard's tongue with a knife. No one hurt his daughter! No one!

"My dear friend, you can not only have a sip, but you can help me break her! With a fire like this, Shabranigdo will love to add her to her little collection. We'll ask to be the ones to break her. Oh, she'll cringe at first, but in the end she'll be so loyal to Kikyo and so afraid of us she'll be complacent enough in and out of the bedroom, won't she?"

_I'm going to cut your heart out with a spoon… I'll never forget your voice, you whoring bastards… never!_

XxXxX

To be Continued...


	13. The Recovery

Chapter Twelve: The Recovery

Their parents came to pick them up. It took them nearly half an hour to get to where they were hiding. It had stated raining, slanting rain that slowly washed away the blood and muddied the ground. Hitomi held Sakura, staring in silence. Akane and Ranma held hands, looking uncomfortable as they snuck glances at Sango and Miroku. He refused to let go of her body. He held her, standing under the boughs of the tree and letting the rain plaster his hair to his head.

The ambulance came first. Miroku and Sango climbed in. When Ferio arrived with his van ten minutes later, Van and Merle still had not shown up. Hitomi numbly sat and settled into the back of the van. No one asked her if she could tell where Van was.

Everyone knew that he wasn't going to be coming.

XxXxXxX

They took Sango and Miroku to the IBSP's private hospital. He didn't like seeing her lying in the bed. It made Sango look small and helpless. Miroku pulled up a seat. His skin was grey-tinged and tight with worry. His whole body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Instead, he leaned over her, brushing her hair. The rain and the doctors had tangled it as they examined her wounds. They told him that she would live, but they didn't know when she would wake up. Her breathing was raspy, barely audible over the constant drip if the IV hanging by her bed. The room still smelled like antibacterial soap.

The door banged open. Miroku wasn't the least bit surprised to see that it was Kakashi and Urahara. He stood up. Her hair was almost all brushed. He wondered when that had happened. How long had he been with her in the hospital?

"I'll leave you guys alone," he told them.

Kakashi managed to tear his eyes away from Sango to grab Miroku's shoulder as he walked by. His face expressed concern, fear, and even curiosity. Whoever had told them about the fight—Miroku suspected Akane—they had neglected to mention what exactly had happened to Sango. When Kakashi saw Miroku's face, he choked on his own questions. Gone was the robust, smiling man who had sat under a tree with him, replaced with the haggard youth he'd met two years ago.

"Where are you going? To sleep, I hope."

Miroku glanced at Sango. Urahara had occupied his stool by the bed and held Sango's hand. Miroku turned back to Kakashi. "After she gets injured, she likes rare meat. Her body needs the nutrients from the raw meat to rebuild her internal organs. I'm going to go arrange for a steak to be ready for her as soon as she wakes up—whenever that'll be. The doctors don't know when. She's recovering fast, though, they say. She'll be able to go home tomorrow morning."

Obvious relief made his concern disappear. Miroku was happy to see it. Kakashi had enough to deal with. The older gentleman's grip lessened, and he patted Miroku's shoulder. "We'll arrange for you to use a bed in the next room, first. I'll go see about the steak, son. We'll give Urahara a chance to keep Sango company for a bit. You need your rest."

"I feel fine."

"You look like shit. Come on. The sooner you sleep, the sooner it will be tomorrow morning and Sango can go home." He noticed that Miroku seemed to perk up a bit. "Of course, I'll need to go to work. We're going to need someone to stay with Sango to be there when she wakes up…"

Kakashi was proud when he saw the determination in Miroku's eyes. "I wouldn't have that any other way, sir."

XxXxXxX

The rain was still coming down hard as Tendo Akane sat on the porch of the apartment owned by Fuu and Ferio. With her legs tucked under her chin and her arms wrapped around her, Ranma thought that she looked abnormally small. Normally when he thought of Akane he thought of stout, sturdy muscle and the power of a bear behind it. When she lost her anger and became melancholy, he really became of just how tiny she was compared to him.

Holding two mugs of tea carefully in his hand, he opened the screen door to the porch and stepped out into the cool air. Akane looked up in surprise, and smiled when she saw the tea. She slowly settled back down and accepted the mug of tea. Ranma climbed up gracefully unto the railing and perched there.

"Miroku called. Sango's going to be released soon. Apparently Kakashi proposes that you stay here so that Sango will have a quiet house to recuperate."

Akane smiled and took a sip of her tea. "I'm glad that she's okay… she made me worried."

"You made me worried."

Her head whipped around to see him. Had she really heard him correctly? Ranma admitting his feelings to her bluntly like that? _Ranma_? He was simply sitting on the railing of the porch, his cup in his hands as he stared out into the city. Akane could feel her heart starting to beat faster. Slowly, he turned to look at her. "You made me worried," he repeated.

She tried to smile. "You don't worry… You're Ranma!"

Ranma snorted and went back to staring over the city. "I worry. I worry about my family, and Fuu and Ferio, and Miroku, and you. Especially you. It's strange…" He lifted his head and bent a leg, resting his arm on it. "When we first became engaged, I was mostly worried that something would happen to you and it would be my fault, like I was a failure for not protecting you. Like it made me less of a man. But after two years, the thing I find that I'm most worried about is hurting you…"

Akane managed to smile at that. "Ranma, I realize that our relationship is a little bit… unconventional, but despite me hitting you a lot and sparring with each other, I can guarantee you that you'll never hurt me."

His face turned enough so that he could see her clearly. His blue eyes were distant and cold. "If I died, I'd hurt you."

It made Akane stop smiling. Her fingers trailed around the edge of her mug lazily. "Yes," she agreed, "that would hurt me."

For a long time, the only sound was the rain falling from the earth and the sky, uniting them in a strange and eerie way. Ranma then let out a heavy sigh. "How do you feel about me, Akane?"

"You're my friend…."

"Is that all I am? A friend? After two years of being engaged?"

She rejoiced in the sweet, innocent hope in his voice. Ranma was blind to how she looked at him when she was with him, yes, but she'd always hoped that the way she relaxed around him was a sign. She was never on-edge around him. She let herself relax, feeling safe and depending upon his acuter senses to warn them of trouble. "No Ranma," she murmured, her voice steadily growing stronger. "You're not _just_ a friend. You're… you're my fighting partner, and sometimes the bane of my life, and sometimes my sensei, and… and you're just my _Ranma_."

He seemed somehow pleased by this information. "Do you remember," he asked nervously, "how when we first became engaged, we agreed that we'd give it a try and that if we wanted out, we could?"

The butterflies in Akane's stomach suddenly erupted. Did he want out? Was that what this was? "Ye-yes…"

"Well… I just…" He took a deep breath. She could see him battle against himself, and she saw him win. "I'm in it for real now. I want to marry you, and maybe even have kids with you, and grow old with you, and stay beside you so that no one can ever hurt you." He stared at her defiantly, as if challenging her to try and make him change his mind.

Akane smiled at him. "Ranma, the thought of breaking off this engagement has never even occurred to me."

It took a moment to realize what she was saying. He liked it, and he smiled at her.

XxXxXxX

Sango's chest hurt. Yup. It hurt a lot. But that wasn't the first thing Sango noticed. The first thing she noticed was that someone was snoring. Her tired eyes slowly opened. They were rather heavy, and the dim light from the bedside table stung, but when she recalled exactly _why_ her chest stung, she was more than happy that her largest concern was snoring and stinging eyes. Rolling over, Sango's eyes widened in surprise.

She was in her bedroom. Akane's bed was empty. The person snoring was laying on the carpet, a pillow tucked under his head and a blanket thrown in over top of him. She smiled when she noticed that her eldest stuffed animal—a plush tiger that Kakashi had given Sango on her fifth birthday—was tucked under his other arm. Miroku's dark hair slanted across his face, making the bags under his eyes darken. But they made his eyelashes look darker too. He had a beautiful face, but it was prettier when he smiled.

Reaching down, Sango lay on her stomach and began mercilessly poking Miroku in his ribs until he woke up. The smile she loved flew to his face when he saw her awake. It was a little sleepy, though.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty."

"Hey. Anyone ever tell you that you snore?"

The sleepiness disappeared. "Anyone ever tell you that you snore too?"

Sango snorted. "I do not." Her eyes were warm with warmth. With her hair spilling over her shoulder and Miroku's happiness staring up at her from the depth of that handsome, blue-eyes face, she felt on top of the world. Sango laughed, kicking her feet up in the air. "So you stole Mulan?"

"Mu…?" She pointed at the stuffed animal he held. Miroku glanced at in surprise. "Oh… It must have been your uncle… I wanted to be awake when you woke up. I guess I must have fallen asleep, and he threw the blanket and stuff on me then…" He ran his hand through his hair. His face flooded with relief, and for a moment, he looked so terribly lost and lonely Sango wanted to throw her arms around him. "I'm really glad that you're finally awake… you've been out for a day."

"Hm. That would explain why I'm so hungry."

"I bought a steak. It should be in the fridge marinating. I can…."

Her beautiful smile interrupted him. She let her hand trail down, tracing the soft skin of his lips. "You're wonderful, Miroku. You know exactly what I need."

Miroku placed a light kiss on her fingertips as they whispered over his lips. He leaned into her touch, letting her fingers explore the curves of his face. "I've been dating you for two years. I should know you by now, don't you think?"

Under the blanket, his hands flew to his pocket. The blue velvet box was still there. He sighed. He didn't have the nerve for it right now. He also thought that it would be putting too much stress on Sango. Miroku sat up to kiss her cheek.

"Go and get dressed. I'll cook up that steak for you."

With a giggle, Sango jumped out of bed. Miroku made the _best_ food. Period! She grabbed her housecoat and dashed off to the shower. If it meant that she good Miroku's cooking _and_ a steak out of the ordeal, Sango didn't care how many times she got shot.

XxXxXxX

"How are you feeling?" Miroku asked as he slipped some more steak on Sango's plate. She was eating it so fast he wondered if she even had the opportunity to taste it.

"Considering I got shot in the chest yesterday? Frankly Miroku, I've had sore throats that hurt more. A bullet will cause me considerable damage, but it won't kill me unless it's here," she indicated her heart and then her head, "or here. Or if it's a silver bullet. Other than that, it just means it hurts a lot." Sango frowned, pausing with her fork poised to stab another marinated slice of steak. "I looked at myself in the washroom. The wound is healed, though I don't know about internally. Everything _feels_ all right, though. My b… my back scarred. It's… it's funny. I shouldn't really care about it that much, but I do. I mean, who's going to see my back? But I do—I do care that it's there."

Miroku leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. His warm hands closed around her shoulders, giving her a friendly and reassuring squeeze. "It's another battle scar, Sango. I've got plenty of them. Learn to take pride in them. That's what I did."

She patted his hand apologetically. She'd forgotten about all the scars lining his chest. Honestly, Sango never even saw them. When she looked at his chest, she was always too struck by his musculature to notice the condition of his skin. Miroku was hot without a shirt on.

Putting down her fork, she thought of something else. Sango turned in her seat, feeling her cheeks burn before she'd even lifted her head to look at Miroku. Her hand never left his. Instead, it slipped inside of it, holding his hand as she stared up at him. "Miroku, I… I saw that vampire wrestling with you… I was so worried that… that he was going to bite you, and kill you…"

His face was smooth, but she could feel him moving away from her mentally. He was preparing for another one of her 'you're human and you need to be careful' speeches. Sango shook her head. "No, not like that. I was afraid for you, but I hated myself because I wasn't able to do anything to stop it. Thank God for Ranma… Miroku, I thought that I was going to lose you, and it… it scared me, and I hated the idea, and… and it _hurt_, Miroku."

His blue eyes were as tempestuous as the ocean as he lifted her from the chair. Sango felt goosebumps ripple across her skin. The only place they didn't appear was where he was touching her. Suddenly she became self-conscious of her wet hair clinging to the back of her neck and the fact that she was wearing only her nightshirt. His fingers gently brushed wet hair off of her cheek.

"I know what you felt like. I thought you were going to die—I thought you _had_ died when I saw you get shot. There was… there was so much _blood_ I thought that no one could possibly survive that." He slowly smiled for her. "Not even a goddess like you."

This time Sango blushed from pleasure. "God… goddess? Me?"

His arms tightened around her. Miroku's body was warm and hard against hers. She could feel herself melting to it, molding to it in an impossibly perfect fit. Her hands wrapped around him, playing with the ponytail at the base of his neck. A shudder of pleasure ran through his body and she could feel it against hers. Flames of pleasure began leaping within Sango, relishing in the sudden things in Miroku she realized that she could cause.

Miroku's nose brushed hers. His breathing was heavy. "You, Sango."

"Sto—stop this. There's more I wanted to tell you." Slowly Sango could feel his body—and hers—relax. It made it easier to breathe. Sango took a deep breath. "Miroku, when I thought that you were going to die, the first thing that I thought of wasn't whose fault it was, or even… I mean, of all things, the first thing I thought of was this knowledge that I had the man I loved. I had him for two years, and I never… I was never intimate with him." She watched his eyes widen. "And I regretted it."

"S… Sango?"

Staring at him through her long lashes, Sango blinked curiously. Didn't he understand what she was saying? "I want to make love to you, Miroku."

He held up a hand. Miroku seemed very confused, she thought. "Back up, Sango. Say it again." His eyes were shining with admiration and joy. The hand holding hers squeezed it. "Please, Sango. Say it again."

"I… I want to make love…"

"No." He smiled, shaking his head. He looked so happy even the bags under his eyes seemed to have vanished. His bangs bounced gracefully from side to side before he lifted hid head to look her in the eye. He brushed her cheek with his knuckle carefully. "Sango, tell me that you love me again."

Sango smiled, and then let out a choked laugh. "I love you."

As she watched, something within Miroku seemed to… to _change_. One moment he was staring at her softly, and then there was this brief, inexplicable moment where her words seemed to hang in the air. Miroku seemed to either be processing the words or be relishing them. Then, the next moment, there was a sudden feeling of intensity and need from him. Sango's legs seemed to shake with the intensity of it.

His hands were on her, holding her cheeks as his mouth covered hers. God, the need in that kiss! Sango's breath was caught in her throat and she was helpless to withstand the desire of the kiss. She gave herself to it wholeheartedly, feeling her inhibitions float away. Her lips shook as she kissed Miroku back. His breath was warm on her face and his body pushed hers towards the bedroom as he tried to press himself closer to her.

Though his touch was gentle, underneath it all she could sense the strength and determination that so greatly attracted her to him. Sango nipped playfully at his bottom lip, wanting Miroku to part his lips for her. He growled playfully in response and Sango could feel warmth starting to pool between her legs. His playful nature and the way his body teased against her, the determination and predatory single-mindedness always just out of reach, were arousing. Sango moaned when his arms wrapped around her waist tightly. He slowly dipped her over and her lips parted so she could murmur his name.

His mouth descended over hers quickly. All thoughts fled from her mind as his tongue tentatively brushed hers before quickly becoming more amorous. The feeling parted all too soon as his lips brushed down her neck. Another moan escaped her, this one louder. Her hands tightened around his arms as his mouth passed by the vein in her throat. A tremor of instinctual fear ran though Sango, feeling the humid breath brush her neck—a spot of vulnerability for predators.

Miroku seemed to know what he was doing—and exactly _what_ he was doing to her—when his mouth slowly closed over that spot. His tongue drew little circles on her neck and his teeth held the skin gently between his teeth. Sango shuddered in pleasure as tiny, pleasant waves of liquid warmth flooded through her body. Her muscles relaxed, and she felt that spark of fear dwindle and extinguish. She felt strangely… happy, and complacent.

Acceptance. She felt like smiling when she could put a name to her behavior. She accepted Miroku as her mate and was willing to join with him for procreation. The baring of her neck was a symbol of her trust. She was willing to lay down her life for him and he was so infatuated by her that he held her life in her jaws and let her life, for she was his life.

Miroku moaned. Slowly, he helped Sango back up on her feet. Standing behind her, he kissed the other side of her neck, letting his hands wander down to the hem of her nightshirt. Slowly he lifted it up. Sango stood there, enjoying the sensation and the way his fingertips brushed her skin, making her squirm. Miroku enjoyed the way her squirming brushed parts of his anatomy, eliciting the most pleasing sensations.

When he saw the scar on her back, he winced for her. It must have been unbearable pain. The scar was jagged and uneven, stretching across a large portion of her back. He lifted his hand and he slowly let his fingers trace the rough patch of skin. He felt her body tense, until he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss at its heart.

"I love your battle wounds," he told her, kissing it again as his hands slipped around to her front. "They make you look dangerous."

"I like yours, too."

"Sango…"

"Yes, Miroku?"

"…Let me see you."

When Sango turned around, Miroku's whole world began misting over. He knew that Sango was out there, and he was all too aware of the curves, sensations and smells, but they all blurred together. Sight became indistinguishable from sounds, and scents and smells were merged inseparable. Touch became everything. Sensations were hot and cold to the touch—each inch of her flesh caused in him searing pleasure that flittered lovingly between eternal fire and ice.

He guided her over to the bed. Sango turned adeptly, pushing him down on it. She straddled his waist, slowly stripping off his clothes. He lay back and marveled at the way that her body moved. His hands explored what his eyes could only worship, and his whole body ached. He wanted to worship her; God, he wanted to worship her. Over and over again he had to calm himself down and remind himself that he had to make Sango comfortable for both of them, even though his whole body was screaming to take her, to claim her in some primal way that he had never felt before.

Virgin. Virgin land. Virgin sacrifice. It didn't matter. It was all the same thing. Untouched, unexplored, un-tasted, un-worshipped, unsung, unknown, unused, unclaimed; inexperienced, innocent, Sango. _His_ Sango. His goddess to worship, his melody to memorize, his land to unite, his to guide and explore and to salvation to reclaim himself, to be able to sing to the world that this, _this_ was Miroku! This was the man who had tasted of an immortal fire and emerged a phoenix from the flames!

He moaned her name, his hand wandering over her body, sometimes hard and sometimes soft. He stopped when he felt a patch of fur under his hands. Opening his eyes, it was curious and enlightening to see the striped pattern on Sango skin. Against a light touch, her skin was velvety soft, wrapped in a short fur that made her wriggle. Her ears were delicately pointed, feline in nature. Her lips appeared pouty, natural and full and soft and almost painfully inviting to behold. From between the supple curves he could make out two little fangs that were mesmerizing. He could scarcely believe that they were real. Her hair, damp as it was, made her look all the more attractive and exotic, accentuating the sheen of sweat on her body and the curves as she moved.

But the most exotic and blatantly feline thing about her was the tail. Long, furred, and stripped, it tantalized Miroku's skin. Sometimes, as it had a mind of its own, it waved about in the air, swaying in tune to their ragged breaths of guttural moans of pleasure. Mostly, however, it seemed to like to dance along the skin of legs, racing and twitching along the inside of his thigh, teasing him.

Finally, Miroku had had enough. If he prolonged putting off intercourse a moment longer, he knew that when he felt her ice-hot body wrap around his and feel the soft resistance or the way her body raced and pushed, he'd lose control. More than anything he didn't want that. He didn't want to hurt or scare her. He wanted her to learn what it felt like to lose herself in the pleasures of her own body. He wanted her to learn what the pleasure felt like to bring joy to another. He wanted her to understand that rapture had a taste, and that gods had names.

His name.

"Sango," he moaned into her ear, "I need you."

Her body shuddered, her nails gently scratching his pectorals from the words he was saying. Sango nodded. Her voice was raspy. "I'm ready."

Miroku's lashes brushed her cheek as he slowly rolled them over on Sango's bed. "You're not scared?"

She gave it due consideration. She was worried about not being good enough for Miroku. She was petrified that she wasn't going to make him happy; that she would be insufficient in some way. But was she scared of the actual act? Sango smiled at him and licked his cheek, laughing. Her tongue was a little rough and her tail thumped lightly against her bed. "If I were scared, I wouldn't be ready for this."

He nodded and lowered his head to kiss her. Her lips tasted a little like sweat. Slowly, his kissed moved from her lips to her skin, and down, between her ample breasts to her waist, and lower. His hands roamed everywhere, massaging and groping and soothing.

Sango thought she was in heaven. His scent was everywhere, his hands were _everywhere_, his lips were **_everywhere_**… She moaned as she felt his body settle over hers again and she took in this new feeling of his body connected to hers. Sango brushed Miroku's sweat-dampened hair from his skin to see his face. She could see the self control that he was exerting trying to keep from accidentally hurting her.

"Does it feel okay so far?"

She smiled up at him; a lazily, smug and cat-like smile as she relished the sensations of her body moving against his. "It doesn't hurt, if that's what you mean." Her voice sounded husky and hoarse. "It feels really rather pleasant, but it feels so… so weird." He smiled and moved a little, repositioning himself. Sango gasped at the sudden feeling that made her heart jump. "Oh… do that again."

Miroku's grin turned lecherous. His mouth began to kiss her neck lovingly as he pushed against her, their bodies coming apart and joining in a complicated dance. Sango felt as if she were floating on a vast sea of nothingness, with only her connection to Miroku to keep her steady. She clung to him as she drifted away. His lips burned on her neck. Her muscles were tense and her eyes drifted closed. She couldn't concentrate enough to keep them open. Sango let out a soft moan of pleasure as she surrendered to the pull from her heart pulling her deeper out to sea.

These strange feelings were mounting inside of her. She kissed his neck back, trying to hold back the sounds of pleasure that threatened to spill from her lips. Again and again she felt him meet and part with her, agony and bliss coming and going with his of his thrusts. The bliss began piling up. More, she wanted more. The agony became unbearable; she couldn't part with him anymore! She needed him there, always!

Her back arched as the rolling waves of a new tempestuous ocean capsized her very soul. She was drowning in pleasure, settling to the bottom of a deep and unknown sea somewhere inside of her. Miroku was there too, their physical connection broken, but still, he was there, above her, calling out her name as if in worship.

His body collapsed against hers and Sango felt her body again. The pleasure was receding, leaving behind a tingling sensation of happiness and fatigue. Her body hurt, and she was covered in sweat, but Sango didn't care. She held Miroku's body closer to her, feeling the slickness of her muscular torso. Sango purred, making him chuckle. He looked so cute and sleepy, his face flushed and his hair plastered to his forehead. His lips brushed her forehead as she nuzzled against his body.

"That felt wonderful Miroku."

He lifted a hand to brush her damp hair. "I'm glad."

Sango's tail flickered. His voice made her ear twitch. She couldn't remember when she had gone into her half and half form. She must have simply lost control of herself and slipped accidentally into the form that felt the most natural for her. "Miroku?"

"Hm?"

Her tail flicked again. "Did it… did it feel good for you too?"

She felt his skin become taunt as his lips pulled back into a dazed and contented smile. "It kind of felt like I was fucking a rubber ducky, actually," he laughed. When she didn't join in, Miroku lifted his head to glance down at her. "I was referring to the condom, Sango. Making love to you was torture." He continued before the fire within her could erupt and kick him out of the house. His hand brushed her cheek. "I could feel you everywhere, but I couldn't feel you the way I really wanted to feel you. It was… tantalizing. I loved it. I loved every second of it. I loved the way you tasted and the way you sighed, and I love how you lost control of your shape. This way I'm always going to be reminded of exactly how wild and dangerous you can be."

His eyes drifted closed, his smile a little lecherous as he held Sango close to his body, gently brushing the fine layer of fur on her arm with his thumb. Sango loved how he seemed so eager to cuddle after sex, holding her like he had been holding Mulan a few hours before. He was already thinking how fun it would to be make love to Sango in different positions, where his hands might be free to play with her tail…

Sango was blushing too much to speak. She let Miroku drift off to sleep. As tired as she was, her mind was wide awake. She thought it was because she smelled blood. She thought nothing of it. Ever since girls had talked about sex, they had always mentioned stories about how a virgin bleed when she lost her virginity. She hadn't thought it would smell so strongly, though. She lifted her hand to itch her nose, trying to get the smell out.

And she froze, staring at her hand. Her fingertips were red with blood. The tingling sensation was replaced by cold horror. Sango flexed her hand, watching as her fingernails expanded, becoming unsheathed claws. She remembered how she had clung to Miroku, and how she had lost control of her form, of her very body as she shook with pleasure and her muscles contracted or tightened…

His hand slid from her shoulder as she sat up in bed, gently pulling Miroku over so that she could see his back. There, perfectly sized to her hands, were two sets of long gouges that oozed blood on his back and sides. She let out a small sound of horror, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to keep it in. Tears welled up in her eyes. How could she have done that? How could she hurt someone she loved like that?

Sango hated herself. Her jaw was clenched as she lay back down, mentally ripping herself apart. She _always_ hurt Miroku! It wasn't fair! Why did she always hurt him?

…because he was human.

Maybe her uncle had been right. Maybe there were reasons that demons and humans shouldn't be together. She snuggled closer to him, tears running down her cheeks and landing silently on her pillow. She almost sobbed when Miroku seemed to sense her tears and pulled her closer. She couldn't even have sex with him without hurting him. She couldn't make him happy without hurting him.

She wept out of guilt, pain, and frustration. She knew what she was going to have to do. She could Miroku deeply for once, or she could continue to watch him die and one day, when his body was weak and she was still young and strong, she was going to do that to him and it was going to kill him. How could they have any sense of normalcy was their bed was being soaked with his blood for her; always for her!

"I _do_ love you, Miroku… At the very least, I've given you something you can claim to me…" The rest of her goodbye was lost to both of them as she cried into his chest.

XxXxX

To be continued...


	14. The Arrangement

Chapter Thirteen: The Arrangement

Miroku was happy. With his half-smile on his slumbering face and the way the morning light struck his face, he looked like a contented child. He groaned a little at the way the light struck his eyes and he rolled over to hide his face. Miroku threw out his arm lazily, intent on drawing Sango to him and burying her nose in her sweet-smelling hair, but he was met with only empty air.

Instantly his mind was wide awake, drowning in panic. Miroku _knew_ that he had fallen asleep beside Sango the night before. It wasn't, for the first time in a long time, been just a pleasant dream. Sango had been there… and now she was gone. Miroku threw off the sheets and tried to find his jeans. Or better, his boxers, and _then_ his jeans. Spotting them underneath the desk in the corner, he bent to retrieve them. It was then that he saw the note lying on the desk. It was written in quick handwriting, but the spelling and the grammar was impeccable.

_Miroku_, it read, _you were right. I should have realized you were right. You're always right, you jerk. Sex changes things. I didn't know how I would deal with it this morning, so I left during the night. I mean, what we do in the morning? Sneak out? Have sex again? What do you say the morning after you give up…_

_Nevermind. I'm sorry if I worried you or made you panic… take care of your back, will you? I just—I need some space to think right now. I'm sick and tired of worrying about you or hurting you accidentally. I have to decide if it's worth my potential happiness to always have these things to deal with, and worth putting you through. I don't want to cause you any pain, Miroku. Better to hurt you once deeply than to continue to live knowing that I can't even be intimate with you without endangering your life._

_I wish I were brave enough to tell you this to your face, Miroku._

His hand shook. He could see where her tears had made the ink run and blur a little. Miroku sat down in the chair; hard.

_I wish I were brave enough to tell you this to your face, Miroku. I love you. With everything in me, I love you, but I can't be with you. I can't watch you die; I can't watch you bleed… you'll always have my heart, Miroku. No life is long enough to get over you, you pervert. I tried; I did. I dated you for over two years, but I just can't do it anymore._

_It's funny… but somehow, I think I understand Inuyasha a little bit more now. He would have done anything to give Kagome a long life, to make her stronger. I refuse to go to such ends. I won't make you give up your soul for me._

He stared at the note for long time. Finally, when he had memorized the contents, though it had been against his will to do so, he put the letter in the back pocket of his jeans. He picked up his pants and threw them on to head outside, where his car was waiting.

Numb denial had set in. He would deal with it later, in bits and pieces.

Sango couldn't break up with him. She loved him. She said so! She loved him…

* * *

Ferio often believed that what Fuu did was magic. He saw, watching her work, that Miroku had adopted some of the same inquiring techniques Fuu used. He found himself becoming jealous of Edward Elric for the being the sole object of Fuu's attention. Ferio sat in the jail level of the old IBSP building, listening and watching Fuu interview and question Ed over the death of his little brother. 

He thought Fuu beautiful. Ferio could tell that Ed thought Fuu was beautiful. What he didn't know was that Ed thought Fuu was an angel. He loved her sweet green eyes. He loved the way she'd push her glasses back into place. He loved the way her eyes were framed by her long lashes, and he loved the way her eyes were so gentle. She was a gentle soul. It was because of her eyes that Edward had grown to trust her. It was because she was a little sad herself, and so compassionate and understanding. She was light given a form. She was light and goodness and she smelled like pure honey.

It was because he trusted her eyes that Fuu used them as a weapon.

She kept them wide and docile. She kept them locked on Edward, always pleading with him with more. She weaved a psychic web around him, placing all the good memories she had around them to give them both a feeling of warmth and comfort. But it was her soft green eyes which were the weapon.

He'd opened up to her about Alphonse. He told her about all their happy memories and some of their fights. There was no trace of insanity in Ed at those times. He smiled, animated and happy when he spoke of his brother getting a pet puppy, or their first cherry-petal festival, or Al's first day of high school.

Then Fuu asked about Al's death. She didn't make any accusations. She simply said: "Tell me about his death". Her mind was gently touching his. She wasn't there to pry, but to keep the lines of communication open. Edward would have made mental blocks to keep out bad memories. She now held them open so that he could not close himself off to her. But when she asked about Al's death, a mental door came down that she had not expected.

Insanity.

His blue eyes had been clear and happy. Then it seemed a wall of fear came crashing down. His body language changed. He lifted his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He began to rock back and forth. It was slow at first, but it became more agitated with the more questioning Fuu did.

"Edward…"

"He was my baby brother…" He sobbed, suddenly. Tears began flowing down his cheeks. "Baby brother. Always be a baby to me. Never grow up. He can't grow up. Always be a baby to me. Can't grow up now. Always a baby to me."

Fuu rose from her chair to sit beside Edward on the thin mat that served as his bed. She touched his shoulder gently. His skin was clammy. "Edward, no one wants to take your brother from you here. He will always be your baby brother. We just want to know how he died."

"They did!" he cried, panicking. "They took him from me! I got here and they took him from me! I want him back. Oh, God, Fuu, I want him back! Bring back Al! Please, bring back Al!"

She shook her head sadly. "I can't do that, Edward. Dead id dead. Nothing can bring back the dead."

"Then bring me something I can care for. Please, Fuu? I'm so lonely. I can feel this… _thing_ inside of me, trying to get out. I need to keep it at bay. It's too much. Too much pain. Too much anger. Too much violence. Too much hate. Bring me someone to hold. Bring me someone to love and cherish and care for. Bring me someone to hold."

"I'll do what I can, but first, you have to help me, Edward-kun. What happened to your brother?"

He stared at her for a moment. Fuu thought that her grip on his mind could crumble, feeling an anger deep inside of him ready to boil over. If it erupted, then she'd have to get out quickly. Finally, the hint of insanity still there, he said:

"You look pretty, Fuu. I think you're pretty, but nothing is prettier than Kikyou. Nothing. When you see her, you need her. It's like… like you're pure, Fuu. You're light; goodness; golden. A golden angel." He reached out to press the tips of his fingers to her cheek. She could sense a sudden wave of desire from him, not sexual, but just needing. Quickly, he slapped his hand back down with his own punitively. "But you can't have an angel. Can't touch an angel. Can't keep an angel. Aren't real. Aren't here. Too pure. Too far. Keep an angel, kill and angel." He laughed painfully.

"But Kikyou? Oh, Kikyou! Like your opposite, Fuu: blue eyes instead of green, black hair instead of gold, and long hair instead of short. Darkness to your light. The embodiment of corruption. Made of sweat and sex and pain and hunger. Sweet and dark. So seductive. And tangible! Have to touch her. Have to have her. Have to hold her, have to kiss her, have the have her, have to _have_ her, have to _have her_. Sweet darkness; seductive darkness! Darkness _is_ just as seductive as the light, if not more.

"She said she was lonely. She said she wanted to meet him, to be a mother to him. He needs a mother. Good little boys need their mothers. I wanted to make them happy. I brought my brother; baby brother, good little baby brother. She smiled. She liked him. I played with his hair. It looked like yours. She took him from me, holding him. I didn't want her to hold him. He was mine; my baby brother! Her lover sat next to me on the couch…."

He grabbed his pillow and buried his face in it. "I can't! I can't go on! She killed my baby brother! Isn't that enough! She did it! She did it! I helped! I couldn't stop it! And I _still_ want her! I _still_ need _her_! Have to see her; have to have her! Hate her; hate _myself_! Want to kill her, want to strangle her; want to _stab _her! Snarling little bitch!" He lifted his face. His blue eyes were drowning in tears, and she could plainly see the hate he had for himself. "I don't want to want her. I want to hate her! I hate wanting her and I hate wanting to kill her!"

"Please," Fuu begged, gently holding his hand. "Please, Edward, you've come this far. Don't stop now, Edward."

"It burns. It burns. Psychic _bitch_, it _burns_!" he snarled. The fingers of the hand Fuu wasn't holding dug into his pillow. "She made me watch. Held my mind open and _made_ me watch. She wanted to know that I hated her when she fucked me later. She promised me silk sheets and chains, riding me until it hurt and had to beg for mercy. Mercy! Mercy from the darkness! She makes you say her name when you beg. It's her secret worship. She feeds on lust, hatred, and fear. She bred it into me to make me her perfect meal." He gave a large sniffle and dried his cheeks with the back of a shaking hand. "Close my eyes and I see him. Can't sleep. Can't rest. Can't blink without seeing Al dying. Smell his blood always. It's everywhere. It's all I smell. Except you. Nice, bright, pretty Fuu. Clean Fuu. Bloodless Fuu. It's seared into my brain; it's always there."

Ed lifted his face to see Fuu, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You're psychic: look in. Peek in, if you can stand the stench. See what I saw. Can't speak of it. Tastes like vomit. Look, if you dare." He smiled weakly. "Maybe you'll leave a clean spot."

"You're giving me permission?" He nodded. Tentatively, Fuu reached in and brushed him mind. 'Seared' was putting the damage done to his mind mildly. There was a faint tint or blur on all of his memories in his mind. The memory of his brothers death had been linked to all of them. It was inescapable. With each memory he recalled, he would be hopelessly led back to that one incident.

Edward offered no resistance as she nudged that blur on the memories floating at the top. It was like she had just hit a play button. The memory wrapped around her, filling her mind with scent, sounds, and touch.

* * *

_Kikyou_ _was holding Alphonse. He was, however, a fourteen year old boy, not a little child to be petted and coddled. She could not hold him up due to size. It was awkward. Ed thought, though, watching how she put his little brother down, that she was reluctant not to hold him close against her body. She smoothed down a stray hair, letting her fingers run through his blonde hair._

"_You're such a beautiful little boy… like a little angel. It's no wonder that your big brother tries to protect you so much. Imagine if something bad happened to rob you of that simple perfection. Why… the world would weep for you." She slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his hair. Her black locks cloaked his face. Her lips trembled from the touch and the longing. She moaned to her lover. "Suichiro… he's pure, through and through."_

_The man sitting beside Edward on the couch lifted an eyebrow. _

_Kikyou knelt down beside Al, holding his hands in hers. He seemed so small and insignificant compared to the woman. "Al, have you ever deliberately hurt someone?" He shook his head. "Ever stolen?" He shook his head. "Ever lied?"_

_He shrugged. "Sure. Everyone lies, if only to avoid hurting someone's feelings."_

"_Ever killed?"_

_Al looked at her like she was crazy. "I'm fourteen. Of course I haven't killed anybody. In fact…I don't even recall ever having killed bugs. They have just as much as a right to live as we do, after all."_

_Her soft blue eyes were watering, overflowing with happiness. She reached up to run a finger down his cheek. It looked like a lover's touch and it sent flames of jealousy burning at the bottom of Edward's stomach. He wanted her to be happy, but why he couldn't he smile at him like that? Where were the hugs and the kisses for bringing Alphonse to see her? Why was Alphonse getting all the attention?_

_Then she did turn and smile at him, but it wasn't nice. It was predatory. "Thank you for bringing me such a delicious gift, Edward. I will cherish him. He'll be my favorite yet. But do you know the one thing that I love more than purity? It's destroying it." Her eyes darted to Suichiro. "Grab him."_

_The older man pounced on Edward. He pinned him to the couch, forcing him to look ahead. His fingers gripped his hair, holding up his face. His grip was so tight that when Edward tried to move away he could feel blood running down from his scalp. He whimpered in pain as he watched Kikyou take Al into her arms. He was staring lifelessly ahead, as if he had retreated from his mind to try and hide in the depths of his thoughts. She let her fingers wander over his body, exploring it, searching and probing gently._

"_The Elric brothers…" She licked her lips hungrily. "You think that you're impure, Edward. You do. You feel guilty for hating your father and fighting with him, forgetting that that is perfectly normal. Everything you did, you always did to protect your little brother. _That _is nobility, Edward. God forgives your sins, as minor as they are, oh yes he does. You're still pure." Her eyes locked with us, establishing a connection that Edward could not break. "I will make sure that you will not be pure. The only thing prettier than the light is the darkness, and the darkness will win."_

_She gripped Al's shirt and pulled the collar open. Buttons scattered on the floor. She pulled back Al's head and opened her mouth. Her canine teeth were fangs. He watched, struggling as he could against Suichiro as those fangs sank into his neck. He could hear her feeding on him. He could feel her greedy gulps and her sighs of ecstasy. The light was back in Al's eyes. He could not hide from this pain. She was everywhere. Tears ran down his face and he struggled to speak. He tried to fight, but it was useless. She was there, in his mind, letting only the pain through._

_When she'd had enough, she lifted her head. Blood clung to her lips and chin. "Suichiro, come and taste him."_

"_No!" When that weight came off of him, Edward moved. He grabbed Al and he took him into his arms and he ran. He ran long and hard and he didn't stop until he was home. It was too late. He'd placed his brother on the kitchen floor of their house, but it was too late. The blood was every; not a drop remained within Alphonse's body. There was nothing but a shell left behind._

_Tears ran down his face. He screamed in pain and frustration._

_And some part of his mind had never stopped screaming._

* * *

Fuu was shocked. Pale and trembling, she saw a glimmer of understanding on his face as she looked at him. His lips were dry. "I didn't show you everything. You're too much like Al. I can't show you. I won't give her the pleasure. I won't make more darkness. I'll fight. I'll fight for the light by being the darkness," he laughed, the last of his tears running over his cheeks. "You'll see. Destroy the light from inside. Be the darkness in the light. Isn't that the song? Be the light within the darkness. Please, Fuu? Bring me something to be my friend? I don't want to be darkness or light. I want to be Ed. Just Ed. No tinge. No cobwebs in my head. Bad cobwebs, evil cobwebs, the spider always out of reach. Pesky spider, spinning in my head. Can't get it out; can't kill it. Sitting and spinning; disgusting, poisonous, _filthy, whoring_ spider!" 

Fuu reached out and took his hand. Her voice shook. "I'll try to bring you a friend, Edward."

He smiled at her, but it was forced. She'd lost control on her mental barriers and all of his shields were up. He kept swinging between the repetitive, almost poetic-like tone and speech of his insanity and the voice of a high school senior turned prematurely into a lonely old man. "Bring me something fluffy, please. They're the best kind of company. I can pet them. Give my hands something to do. I never know what to do with them. Idle hands are the devil's plaything. They're the key to darkness, idle hands. Can't give her that opening. But there's nothing else to do… won't give me pens, won't give me Lego, won't give me puzzles or mind games or even a goddamn crochet hook. Could be a weapon, they say. Lego, a weapon? When was a puzzle a weapon? If it's fluffy, I can pet it. Fluffy things like to be petted. I can be a good friend. I'll protect it. Fluffy things can't hurt anybody."

She squeezed his hand. "I can do my best, Edward. That's all I can do."

For a moment his expression was a genuine smile. "That's all anyone can do."

"Edward…"

"Yes, Fuu?"

"How exactly did you get out? Kikyou would have had many men to guard her… she's incredibly strong, as is her lover. How did you manage to get out?"

This time it was enigmatic. There was a touch of mischief to his blue eyes. "You know how they make psychics? Two things; genes and stress. I don't have the genes, but I had the stress. I grabbed Alphonse, and I wished I was somewhere far away. I closed my eyes and I wished. I woke up on a sandy beach and it was hot. I didn't question it; I wasn't afraid. I closed my eyes and held my brother and wished again and I was in the street, looking at the house. I went inside. I went to the kitchen. That's where we kept the first aid kit… but like you saw… he was dead when we got there."

"Teleportation?" She glanced around and then lowered her voice. "Edward… you know, these cells aren't designed to keep out teleportation. If you wanted to, you could escape."

There was only infinite sadness in his eyes and voice. He reached out to touch her cheek comfortingly. He could tell that he'd worried her. "I know. But where would I go? I'm safe here… just very bored and lonely."

"Edward… could you tell us how to find Kikyou?"

He thought about it a moment. He was scared, but at the same time, he wanted to know he had hurt her. He wanted to hurt her. It was just a matter of which one would win out. "I can tell you where I went, but she may not be there for sure. She moves around. She contacts us, not the other way around. This way it's special. It makes you feel honored and needed. Think about it. If you had the power to make people follow you to the point where they would be willing to bring you the thing most precious to them without a second thought, would you want them knowing where you lived and breaking down the door or stalking you? Suichiro's the only one who knows where she is at all times."

"We'd heard about groups…"

Edward's hand shot out and gripped her arm tightly. "Stay away from them! How they get you; how they trap you! Evil! Dangerous! Bad! Don't go to the meetings; don't go to the group. Gets you hooked. Can't escape it. Like a drug. Like a drug. Like the best feeling ever… makes you touch yourself when you get home to try and relieve the feeling. Touch yourself and it burns… buried beneath your skin… can't get it out. Infections, slutty spider, spinning webs of need and desire. Have to see them again, have to feel that release again, feel that good again…" There was a faint shimmer of perspiration on his brow. "Don't go."

"Okay, okay, Edward. We won't send anybody to the group." His grip relaxed. She stood up and walked out of the cell. As the doors closed behind her, she glanced over her shoulder to see him. He was rocking back and forth on the bed again, staring at the corner of the ceiling. She could only imagine what he was seeing.

"Remember. Something fluffy." He never took his eyes from the ceiling. "Maybe I'll call her Fuu."

"…goodnight, Edward-kun."

"Goodnight, Fuu."

A hand reached out and grabbed hers through the bars as she walked by the next cell. Inuyasha's haggard face stared at her. Both of them could hear the footsteps as people ran down the hallway, thinking she was in danger. After one glance of those gold eyes she held up a hand to tell them to stop. It was okay.

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "They said that you were insane."

Inuyasha chuckled. With his straggled silver hair and the way he hunched over, he certainly had the look of a wild man, but she could see the sanity in his eyes. "Maybe I am a little. Wouldn't you, with no room to run? You guys don't leave much room for a demon like me to use." He nodded over to the cell next to his. "I heard the brat. Don't _ever_ get him fucking talking about spiders. The little shit won't shut the fuck up. If I ever hear someone sing the 'Itsy-Bitsy Spider' again, I think I might tear out their voicebox."

"The concern is noted."

Inuyasha took a deep breath. "He was talking about my wife, wasn't he? His brother's dead, and Kagome's the one who did it."

"Inuyasha-san, your wife did not commit a thing. She's a victim in this whole sordid affair, the same way Alphonse was. The spirit inhabiting her body did this, not your wife."

"No! You don't understand… Please. _Please_. Listen. My wife was like his brother. She was a good, sweet person. Don't you see? We complemented each other. I was gruff and sexual and mean and sarcastic, and she was the music in my life to calm me down. My wife did have some powers. She came from a family that lived on a shrine. Her powers can go two ways. They can heal, or they can hurt, and it all depends on the purity of her body. If her body is unpure… it'll kill Kagome faster than having that bitch in her head would. Please, was my wife… involved?"

Fuu hung her head in shame. She felt his clawed hand release the hem of her shirt. "Your wife's body appears to be being physically altered. In his memories, she has the fangs of a vampire. Whether Kagome actually is a vampire, or if this is simply Shabranigdo's powers altering your wife's form, I don't know." She paused. "I'm sorry, Inuyasha-san."

He pressed his head against the cool bars of the metal cage and sighed. "Don't worry. I had thought as much. Please go now. I don't want you to see me like this." He managed to show her a smile of kindness, but it was a ghostly one. "You seem to be one of the few who still has a glimmer of respect for the man that I once was. I don't want to lose that or see it turn into pity."

"I… I think I understand, Inuyasha-san."

He waited until he saw her go into the elevator with her husband. Then he howled. The guards came, and they beat him. Inuyasha had expected it and counted on it. He kept fighting and screaming for his wife until a lucky blow to his temple sent him into unconsciousness. He dove towards the blackness, welcoming it.

Everyday he was locked in that cell, his wife ceased to become his wife a little bit more. And it was killing him.

* * *

Ferio didn't ask about Fuu's unhappy expression until they were inside the elevator. He nervously brushed aside some of his bangs. She wasn't even looking up at him. Fuu loved his hair. Normally she'd always look up at him whenever he drew attention to it. With a sigh, he cursed lightly and put his arm around his wife, drawing her close. She relaxed a little and the other arm curled around her too. He leaned down his neck, brushing his cheek against the top of her head. 

"What's wrong, Fuu?"

"I'm worried, Ferio."

"You're always worried," he teased. When she didn't smile, he kissed her cheek. Fuu was looking for comfort from him, being honestly worried, and he would deliver. "What is it, Fuu?"

"I just… I don't like what happened to Edward-kun and his brother. They… they were so _young_, Ferio. They were on the cusp of being adults, of being men, but they were still taken in by that… that _thing_!" She stepped away from him a bit and rubbed her belly self-consciously. His hands were still around her. "I don't want to bring a child into the world right now, when it's as dangerous as this is."

Ferio went still.

Her face crumpled. "And how will Miroku react? You know he was a big brother, once upon a time, before the fire… I don't want to risk bringing back up unhealed wounds, but it's not like I'm going to be able to hide it forever… Ferio?" She looked up at him. "Please, Ferio, say something. It's your child too, after all."

That got him speaking. He narrowed his gold eyes at her and Fuu felt a bit of warmth creeping back into her body. It wasn't an expression of anger at the suggestion that the babe wouldn't be his, but one of fierce protection. "Of course the child's mine. I just don't understand… when? We've been trying for so long…."

"Since before we adopted Miroku," she agreed with a note of sadness in her voice.

"I had morning sickness three mornings this week. Today I slipped out on my lunch break and got a home pregnancy test. I actually did it here, about two hours ago. Like I even needed a kit to tell me…" She laughed, touching her belly. There was not a hint of bulge to it yet, but Ferio would dance with joy when there was. "I can feel him in there. There's no emotion yet or thoughts, but I know he's there all the same."

His eyes were wide. "He… is it… is it really a boy?"

"I honestly don't know yet. Would you… would you be upset if it were a girl?"

"Frankly, Fuu, I think I'd be happier. I'd love for our Miroku to have a little baby sister to protect. Can you imagine what would happen when she'd bring home her first boy, and there's Miroku sitting in the living room waiting to lay down the law? He could use his aura to be incredibly frightening at times… I'd feel like I were in a room with Satan if I were in that boy's shoes."

The weight of it was sinking in. He rubbed his wife's shoulders. "A baby… we're going to have a baby…" He was smiling deliriously. Ferio suddenly burst out laughing, grabbing his wife and spinning her around the small space. She laughed with him. "A baby! We're going to have a new baby!"

When he set her down he was breathing quickly from exertion. "We have to celebrate. Now. Right here. In this building, right here, not the elevator."

"I'll call Miroku…."

He took her cell phone when she reached for it. His lips were dancing over hers, teasing her. "For how I plan to celebrate right now, we don't need him." Slipping the phone into his pocket, he scooped Fuu up into his arms.

The doors opened and the fake elevator chimes dinged in a supposedly pleasant tune. The receptionist at the front of the atrium seemed surprised when the doors opened and Ferio stood there, holding his wife. He leaned his head out of the elevator.

"My wife just found out she's pregnant. I'm going to go upstairs and use our old bedroom to make love to her. If anybody has a problem with that, tell them to wait… hm. Two and a half hours. Then they can berate me for the abuse of company property."

The secretary was shocked, but she smiled at them both. She was happy that sweet Fuu had finally become pregnant. "Abuse of company property? I don't know what you're talking about. You couldn't possibly have been upstairs having sex with Fuu, because that level is currently under quarantine. They're spraying to get rid of roaches." She winked at him. "At least, they are for the nest two and a half hours."

* * *

Van had been locked inside the same room, but he didn't know how long. He'd passed out, laying on the cool wet grass and feeling the rain running down his face. When he woke up, he was in a cell. There was an old mattress that smelled of dried urine to use for sleeping. Beside it was a bucket in case he needed to relieve himself. There were no windows in the cell, but a bit of light did come from the grating in the bottom of a heavy metal door. The light coming through it was yellow. Inside lights, Van knew. He could lay on his side and look out, but all he could see were ankles and feet. 

Once or twice someone had opened the grating and had placed food inside his cell. Van didn't touch it the first time. His watch was still working, though the face was cracked. After they saw that he hadn't touched his food, they had waited nine hours before trying to feed him again. This time Van drank the water, feeling himself becoming dehydrated.

He was right. They had drugged the water. Van fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, and he was glad for it.

When he was awake, he worried. He worried the most about Merle, but he did a fair share of worrying for himself, too. His ankles had been shackled together so he couldn't kick or run away when they opened the cell doors. His hands were free too allow him to urinate or eat, but they had tied up his wings.

With the bullet wound in his wings, he was unable to draw them in. The wound always hurt. Van knew that normally he'd have to keep them spread as much as possible to allow the bones to heal straight, as well as to exercise them. Now they were pulled together and tied together. His wound had been wrapped with a dirty cloth. It was probably infectious. That was why he craved water. He was coming down with a fever.

Yes, he worried about Merle. He tried not to, because worrying about her made him worry about what they were doing with her. Van's adult imagination was full of horrible things that could be done to Merle. It was better worrying about his wings, because that only affected himself. He could deal with mentally inflicting things on himself. Besides, without being able to stretch his wings, with the ones healing improperly, he'd never be able to fly again. He'd never even be able to retract his wings properly. If he wanted to look normal and go out into human society, he'd have to get them surgically removed.

Frankly, Van would have preferred to lose a ball rather than lose both his wings. Hell, even if he lost _both_ balls, he'd still be able to pee standing up. He'd still be a man by definition. If he lost his wings… he'd cease to be himself.

He made himself angry. Anger kept him focused and numbed some of the pain. He tried to figure out who was to blame. He tried very hard to blame the IBSP, but this wasn't their fault. It was the fault of the people who followed Shabranigdo. He tried to think of why they would want to capture him, but he couldn't.

In the end, Van was concerned with only one thing: Merle.

* * *

Kikyou walked down the hallway. Her long black hair swirled behind her as she moved with unnatural grace. Suichiro followed, admiring the sway of her hips and her lovely derriere. Her voice was amused. "I think that our pet project has been stewing enough, don't you think?" She glanced back at Suichiro. "Tell the Marquis to fetch the girl for us. He likes little girls. He'll be perfect for the role. Have one of the fuzzies bring the birdie to us. You know where I'll be." She blew him a kiss and kept walking.

* * *

Light blinded Van as the door burst open. A large man smelling vaguely like a large dog walked in and grabbed him. Van offered no resistance as he was led down the hallway, for many reasons. For one, the fever had begun to set in. The light and the sounds were making him feel nauseated. Secondly, he wasn't so much walked down the hallway and he was picked up and carried by one of the man's burly arms.

There was a corridor with lots of cell doors on it exactly like his. He wondered how many of them were occupied. He wondered if Merle was in one of them. Thinking of Merle made him want to fight and ask questions, but he knew he wouldn't get anything from the man dragging him down the hallway. He screamed lackey. Van needed to wait until he saw the head honcho. He gulped when he realized who exactly that would mean seeing.

Shabranigdo himself.

He prepared himself, but seeing her took him by surprise. He'd been expecting some frightening monster, or a man so beautiful he was hard to look at. What he hadn't been expecting was a female. He was thrown into a room tastefully decorated with office chairs, a sturdy desk, and carpeting, despite the cavern surrounding them. A woman sat at the head of the table, sipping a glass of red wine. She was petite and slender, but lined with muscle. Her lips were the same color as her wine, and her hair spilled around her face, softening the cruelty of her eyes—but only by a very little. She rose when she saw that her guest was entering.

"Van-sama… please, take a seat, won't you?" She gestured to any of the open chairs. His escort selected one for him and slammed him into it. His injured wings burst into a pain so intense it blinded him. Kikyou clucked her tongue. "Now, now. Dolph, you have to learn to be more careful. Our guest is injured. You're excused, Dolph."

Kikyou sank back into her chair. She was wearing a red corset that turned her skin as white as cream and pushed her breasts up to make them look fuller. She was, Van was pained to admit, an attractive woman. He might even had been attracted her, but for the familiar weight on his ring finger. It felt like a shield against Kikyou's physical charm.

"Where's my daughter?"

Kikyou smiled. "Don't worry. She'll be joining us shortly. Would you care for some refreshments?"

Van hesitated. He decided to go with logic rather than stubbornness. He'd take whatever he could get. "Water."

She smiled at him and leaned down. He realized that there was a little console box at her end of the table. She turned on an intercom. "Dolph, please bring our guest some ice-water." She lifted her head, brushing her hair back in place. Her blue eyes were amused. "I have to admit, Van-sama, that you don't look so good. Not getting enough sun these days?"

He glared at her. It made him a little bit dizzy. "Fuck you."

Kikyou eyed him hungrily. "If it wouldn't break up this wonderful work relationship we're developing, I would love for you to do that. Actually, I'd love to fuck _you_, Van-sama. How would it feel to have me on top of you while your wings are trapped beneath you, hm? My own little angel, mine to toy with all my very own… I've asked for one for Christmas last year, but Santa never delivered. I think I made the naughty list."

"You're insane."

"No, I have a sense of fucking humor. There's a difference," she snapped. Someone knocked on the door and she told them to come in. Dolph placed a pitcher of ice-water and a glass on the table in front of Van. Kikyou smiled at him and blew him a kiss as a reward. She watched as Van poured himself a glass and drank it down. "Careful. If you drink it too fast, your stomach will hurt." She smiled when he realized she was right and forced himself to slow down. "Now that we have refreshments and the pleasantries are over, why don't we move on to business, Van-sama?"

Van slammed the glass down on the table. "Stop calling me that!"

Her eyes had suddenly turned large and innocent. "I'm just trying to be respectful…"

"Well stop it! I don't want your respect!"

They both glared at each other. Kikyou managed to bring herself to speak first, speaking slowly and letting her full lips poison each syllable. "And what shall I call you then, _Van_? Van-san? Van-kun?"

His lips drew back into a sneer. "How about simply _sempai_?"

Kikyou's glare could have killed a man. She looked like she'd just been slapped. Not only had Van indicated that she was unworthy of being respectful to him, he'd then indicated that she was inferior to him. Kikyou set down the wine glass before she could break it in her tightening grip. She took a deep breath. "I think you will learn, Van, that I will call you whatever I damn well please. If I call you Van-sama, you are to snap at attention. If I call you lover, you are to placate me. If I decide to call you puppy, I want to have you down on all fours and begging for a treat."

She pressed a button on the console. The curtain that had covered one of the walls of the office slowly rolled back, creaking on un-oiled hinges to reveal a one way mirror. "Now then. As I was about to say, we can get around to our business arrangement. I have something you want. You have something I want. I am going to propose a trade."

Van knew without a doubt what she had that he wanted. "What is it that I have that you want?"

Kikyou laughed a little and leaned forward in her seat. Her chest shook with her pretty dulcet laughter. "You're something to look at Van, but you're not too bright sometimes. I don't know what Hitomi sees in you know that she's lost her sight. But then again, I guess you don't need to see to enjoy a good rutting. Think, Van. What makes you different than all the other men around here?"

"A sense of morals?" Kikyou frowned. He wasn't being cooperative. "Wings, then."

"How about your job, Van?"

"I'm a lawyer…"

Kiyou smiled slyly. "We both know that isn't true." She flicked a switch in the console. The light in the other room came on.

Merle sat on a table, not unlike the one in the room. The room itself was a mirror image of the one that they were in. She looked much better than he did. Her wounds from the fight had actually been tended to and had mostly all healed. She'd been cleaned and was wearing fresh clothes. The only think Van didn't like was her body language, and the clothing she was wearing. Someone had decided to dress his daughter in lingerie. She shivered from the cold and kept her limbs close to her body to preserve the heat. She was also watching someone nervously.

Van followed her gaze to see the man sitting in the equivalent to Kikyou's chair. Pale-haired and stripped to his jeans, the man watched her. He wasn't a body guard like Dolph had been. He wasn't watching her carefully. He was watching her shiver. His eyes were taking in every inch of her body and Merle knew it. Van could see that she was trying hard to maintain her shape. He felt a glimmer of pride in his heart. If she was threatened, she'd change.

Kikyou smirked. "Now, Van, how about we try this again. Exactly what is your job?"

Van knew a trap. He had to count on Merle. Merle was young, but she could take care of herself. He had to trust in that. "I'm a layer."

"Sorry, Van. That's the wrong answer." Kiyou pressed another button on the console. "Marquis? Darling? Enjoy yourself."

The man smiled and stood up from his chair. Van's eyes widened. He turned to Kikyou. "What exactly are you doing?"

"I'm a very strong psychic, Mr. Fanel. I wouldn't suggest that you try to look away. If you do, I will make sure that the memory is seared into your brain. I'm a very patient woman, Mr. Fanel. If you don't want to admit for me what you do then I will bring you both back tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day following that. I'm in no hurry to get what I need."

Van felt a stabbing pain in his head. He automatically relieved himself of it by turning back to look at the window. Merle was scrambling away on the desk, trying to get away from the white-haired man. She screamed in fear when he grabbed her ankle and pulled him under her. Her fists beat against his chest, but against a man his size it did very little.

"I wouldn't be counting on Merle changing if I were you, Van. We gave her an immunity booster. Strange, isn't it? Shape-shifting is in her genetics, yet all it requires is something to raise her white-blood count to prevent the change from occurring. As fast as her body can make the changes, her blood undoes it. It's very painful, from what I've been told. Almost makes it sound like her god-given ability is a disease, doesn't it? Now, Van, I'm getting bored. I may have a lot of patience, but I really don't have a large attention span. I'd much prefer doing something else than sit here and play twenty questions with you." The Marquis finally managed to get her arms pinned. Merle lay on her stomach, still fighting and swearing, her hands pinned on her shoulders by one of the Marquis' massive hands. His other hand was fumbling with his belt. "Where do you work?"

Van took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt a stabbing pain in his head again. She was trying to get him to watch. "I work for the National Department of Defense. Z-core."

Kikyou sighed. She pressed a button on the console. "That's enough, Marquis. Wait there." She straightened in her chair. "Now, Van, I wouldn't suggest that you lie to me anymore. I don't think you'd like the results. What exactly is Z-corps?"

"It's… It's like the Department's version of the IBSP. The IBSP is a police system. It's a social institution meant to protect the humans and the demons alike by keeping them a secret, enforcing the law, and arresting those who break the law. The Z-corps is concerned with defense. Some countries have started to use demons as shock troops before starting an actual invasion. We here to make sure that Japan never gets hit with them."

"And where did Japan ever come up with such a cute little idea?"

Van sighed. "From that movie… you know… _Men in Black_."

Kikyou stared at him for a moment and then bent to the console. Van leapt up. "No! I'm perfectly serious. Look the line of MIB in the movie is that they are the first and last line of defense. That's what we are. We keep demons we don't want in the country from coming in, sometimes aggressively. If they do come on, it becomes a matter of the IBSP and Z-corps to try and stop them, but we have the big guns. We're the National Department of Defense! We've been working on shutting you down for ages…"

Kikyou smiled. "I know, Van. How do you think I knew who to pick on? I needed someone I could manipulate, and someone with the clearance codes I needed. Unfortunately, if I try to steal them from your mind…"

"Yeah. I know. Law 196C in the corps. We've been hard-wired that if someone tries to rip information from our mind, we suffer an epileptic shock and wake up with amnesia. Handy training, don't you think?"

She frowned. She didn't think it was handy training at all. Kikyou leaned back in her chair. "Now, Van, here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to shower. Frankly, you look like shit. Then you will return to your cell. Merle will be returned to her unmolested. We'll make the final preparations. When we're ready, we'll take you from your cell. You will then give us the security codes needed to launch a missile. Then, you can go back to your cell. If you've been good, we'll give you a bigger room, somewhere where you can stretch your wings. Maybe we'll even let you have Merle so you don't have to worry about it. How do you get to be that good, you ask?

"You help us write a computer system to let us get into the NDD whenever we want. You help us make a back door into the missile-launching program so that we can have access to it whenever we want. If you do that, we'll let both of you go free."

"And if I don't help you write the computer system?"

"If you cooperate with us in every way but that, we'll keep you with us forever so we can use your codes whenever we damn well want. The second that you deny us the access codes, we'll find your daughter, and your wife, and you won't have the opportunity to save them like you did today. This is a meeting hall. I'll show you where we keep the toys for when we really mean to let our boys go at their pets. I will," she promised evenly, "lock you to a wall and let you watch first hand as they both get tortured in front of you, one after the other. If you don't even give us the codes so we can launch one teeny-weeny little missile, then say so now and the Marquis can finish doing his job. Merle will never be let out. You can die knowing that she's going to be so broken that when a man even enters her room she'll spread her legs like a bitch in heat. And as for you, I will hang you from my bed post and rip out one single feather for every time she gets raped so that you can have an inkling of an idea of exactly what kind of living hell you gave to her."

Van gulped. He'd been trained to deal with a lot of threats, but the National Department of Defense had clearly never counted on Shabranigdo returning. "The defense will recognize my security code… once they talk to the IBSP and realize that I'm missing, they'll lock me out of the system."

"Let _us_ deal with that."

He stared at his daughter. Van knew his resolve had already crumbled, long before Kikyou had started making her verbal threats. "How do I know that you'll keep your word and you won't harm Merle?"

The lady in the red corset took a deep breath. This was always the toughest question to answer. "You don't. You have to trust me, something you have no reason to do. So I will give you a way to watch over me. I will place a television set and a microphone in your cell. You can see her whenever you would like. You can talk to her, whenever you would like. You will remain separated from one another, but you can always talk to her."

"I'd prefer to see her in person."

"Frankly, Van, love, you're in no position to be making demands."

Van's breath shook. "How long will it take until you need the codes?"

"A week. We're having some programming difficulties, and we need to wait until the proper time."

"Fine."

* * *

The television was in his room when he got back from being cleaned and having his bandages cleaned. Van flipped it on. Merle was in much nicer rooms than he was. Hers actually looked like a real bedroom. He could hear things in her room. He heard the door open and he heard Merle run to the television like it was a blessing from God. She sobbed when it didn't work.

"Van-sama? Van-sama… can you hear me? You have to turn on the web camera for me to get a picture of you…" Van looked around and spotted the web cam mounted beside the tv. He turned it on. Merle's face flooded with relief. "Oh… you're okay. I was so worried about you."

"I was worried about you too, Princess."

His fingers itched to try her tears as they rolled down her face. "This isn't your fault, Van. It isn't! How're your wings?" She sobbed loudly. "That bad, Van-sama?" He didn't answer. Merle sat down in front of the tv. From somewhere she had gotten a stuffed penguin. She hugged it to her chest. "Daddy…"

Van felt the tears start to run over his own cheeks.

"Daddy… tell me a story."

He forced himself to smile. Trust Merle to know how to push his buttons to pull him out of his misery. It was starting to feel like they could almost be in the same bedroom. "What would you like to hear, Merle?"

"Tell me how you met Hitomi. Was it love at first sight?"

His smile turned earnest. "No, Merle, it was anything but…"

Van had to trust Kikyou. Kikyou was as good as her word. She made sure that no harm would come to Merle.

* * *

To be continued...


	15. The Passion

Chapter Fourteen: The Passion

Miroku had decided to stay in. He didn't want to go out. He was swimming in denial. Sango couldn't have broken up with him. He was rather afraid of what was going to happen if they saw each other. He decided to play it safe. With nothing to go on until Fuu got through to Edward, they didn't really have any leads to go on. Akane and Ranma were looking into the Group—whatever it was. He had other work to do.

After all, he was a teacher now. Just thinking about it made his heart beat faster in anticipation. He was looking forward to the sound of pens on note paper, or making overheads, and the lectures—oh! The lectures!

First he needed a course outline for his class. He sat in his desk for half an hour, trying to think of where to start. His class was an introductory religion course. It had to cover the dogma and a brief history of all of the different religions. The problem was, did he start off with Buddhism, Shinto, and Christianity because those were the religions his students would be most familiar with, and then gradual move to the lesser-known, lesser-evident-religions-in-Japan, like Rastafarianism? Or should he just go with a basic chronological outline?

After finally deciding to stay with the chronological overview of religion, Miroku sat down with his piles of books and notebooks and began to plan what each lesson would entail. He worked steadily, now again cursing and getting up to pace. He was on a role with Christianity's schism when the telephone rang.

"De Forest-Hououji residence," he answered, nearly dropping the textbook he held. Miroku cursed softly when his notepad fell instead and landed on his bare foot. He glanced down at himself and realized that he was still in his blue, flannel pajama bottoms.

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh. Yeah. Don't worry, Fuu. Everything's fine. I just dropped a book on my foot."

There was a faint sound of amusement in Fuu's voice. "Break anything?"

Miroku chuckled dryly. "Just the book."

"Ah. That's fine, then. I hear books are much less painful to replace than a foot."

Miroku stretched and then flopped back down unceremoniously into his desk chair, leaning against the wood and putting his legs up against the back of the office desk. He lazily spun around in little crescent moon-shapes. "You sound like you're in a good mood, Fuu." He stuck the pencil he'd been using in his mouth, speaking around it. "What's gotten you in such a good mood?"

"Ferio and I are going out for supper."

"Good for you two!" Miroku grinned, hanging on to the pencil with his teeth. "It seems like it's been ages since you two went out for a night by yourselves. What's the special occasion? It's not your anniversary, or anyone's birthday…"

There was a pause on the phone. Fuu's voice took a nervous turn. "Well, actually, we wanted the whole family to go out to dinner, not just Ferio and I. We wanted you and Ranma and Akane and Sango to come along as well. It's… it's a kind of family, celebratory thing… Ooh! Miroku! I want to tell you this face to face. It doesn't feel _right_, telling you this over the phone…"

The young man laughed pleasantly, finally taking the writing utensil from his mouth. "Now you've made me curious, Fuu! You have to tell me now."

"…I'm pregnant."

The pencil slipped from his hand. Miroku stared straight ahead at the spot over his futon on the wall. His mouth didn't want to seem to work. Finally, miraculously, he was able to string together two words. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes!'

It was hard not to feel happy for her the way she exclaimed it. It was like Fuu was praising God with her voice. It was a liberating, happy, soul-freeing 'yes'.

It made Miroku's world shatter.

Ranma had always been like a son to Fuu and Ferio because he spent so much time with them, but it was Miroku whom they had adopted. It was Miroku who had made the decision two years ago to formally and legally take Ferio's name, symbolically cementing their relationship. He knew that it was silly, especially at his age, to be worried about his foster-parents suddenly caring more about some other kid, but he did worry.

It had been different when his real parents had told him he was going to have a brother. They had been bound by blood. They had to love him, no matter what. Fuu and Ferio weren't bound to him in the same way. Hell, when he had been adopted, he hadn't even been a kid. Fuu was only nine and half years older than him: young enough that when Miroku had been high with his new-found charisma and charm with women that even Fuu had not escaped his flirtation. At times he thought that their relationship were more like siblings rather than adult and parent, but it went deeper than that. Ferio and Fuu were more than siblings; they were his bosses and his teachers too.

He wasn't bound to them by blood, but by law, loyalty, and tuterage. It was the kind of definition which best suited a foster-parent rather than a sibling.

Of course they could love another child more than they could him. This child would have the added benefit of being bound by blood!

But there was more to it than that. Miroku would be a sibling again. He would have to watch over their kid. He'd have to make sure that this brother or sister wouldn't be lost the way his first baby brother had been. Miroku suddenly, given his past with protecting a younger sibling, didn't feel very comfortable in his ability to protect this one.

He forced his mouth and voice to work. "That… that's wonderful, Fuu."

She paused. "You… you don't sound very happy for us, Miroku."

"Naw. I'm just… floored! That's all. I am happy for you, Fuu. I know how long you two have been wanting to have a kid together, and how hard you've been trying to get one. Hell, sometimes I hear how hard you two want a baby when you wake me up in the middle of the night screaming in the middle of…"

"Miroku! I most certainly do not scream during sex!"

Poor, sweet, proper Fuu defending herself. She didn't realize that he was joking. Miroku chuckled, picking up the pieces of his once perfect world. He was trying to put them back together piece by piece. He was the thorn in Fuu's side, always suggesting that she had a healthier-than-normal sex life. A newborn kid couldn't do that, at the very least. It wasn't much, but it made Miroku feel a bit special that he could antagonize Fuu.

"Well, I can call up Sango and see if she wants to go out. Ranma and Akane aren't here right now. They're out on patrol."

"I already talked to Ranma and he said that he'd love to go."

Miroku winced. He didn't think that Sango would want to go to dinner with them. Scratch that; he knew that she wouldn't want to go. Ranma would have his girlfriend there. It was little consolation that they weren't the type to be disgustingly cute together in public. Just the fact that Miroku was dateless was enough to make him feel like he'd stand out.

Briefly, he considered dragging out the little black book from under the bed, dusting it off, and seeing if someone in there might want to go out, but then it would no longer be a family dinner. Besides, Sango had been… _special_. It wasn't like he'd dumped her after getting what he'd wanted. He wasn't ready to date. Miroku was barely even ready to think that Sango had really broken up with him.

For a second, he had a horrible thought. Sango had been the one to initiate the sex. Miroku had wanted it that way—but what if Sango had wanted it that way as well? What if she'd just wanted to use him for sex and then had dumped him? What if that was all she had been looking for was sex?

The laughter could not be contained. He chortled at the idea of Sango using him for sex. He laughed so much over the thought that he found himself calling her cell phone without even thinking about it. It was turned off. Her voicemail picked up, but he couldn't bring himself to leave a message. He kept listening to it, listening to her voice.

He sighed and hung up. He had to face it, eventually. She'd dumped him.

Miroku just wished that he knew why.

* * *

It was two days after Fuu had told her family she was pregnant. With nothing better to do, she had poured all her energy into pulling strings to get Edward something to do. Sesshoumaru, of course, would not give him anything he could use to hurt himself. But. in the end, he did allow some concessions. 

She carried the boxes down the hallway with her chin held high. She felt like she had done something good.

"Christmas time already?"

She paused by Inuyasha's cell. The pale-haired man was crouched on his bed, looking more like a wild animal than ever. She could see blood matted in his hair. Fuu made a note to talk to Sesshoumaru about how the guards had been treating the man. She gave him a friendly smile. She thought he needed to see one. "Because Edward-kun was so helpful, we decided to reward him as best we could." She paused, staring ahead almost mindlessly. "Inuyasha-sama… I can't do much for you. Is there anything though… that I might be able to bring you?"

His gold eyes were pleased, and a little scared. His nose moved up and down, sniffing, as if he were looking for a trap. His shoulders shuddered and the suspicion abated. "I want out…"

"You know that I don't have the authority to do that…"

"I know. So… if you can swing it… bring me some music?"

Fuu arched an eyebrow. "Music?"

Inuyasha nodded and sighed with longing. "I miss music. I used to operate to Openheimer. I used to dance the waltz with Kagome. She'd sing whenever she would do housework, you know. It meant that I heard everything from Beethoven at work to pop songs at home, and rock in the car in between. I haven't heard music in two years."

Fuu couldn't imagine going without music for two years. She nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Inuyasha's smile was reward enough. Fuu moved on. She opened Edward's cell and put the boxes down on the floor. The boy's wide blue eyes watched her carefully, but she could see the way he was restraining from rushing and opening the boxes.

Fuu backed away from the boxes a little. His eyes never rose to meet her broad smile. "There are two puzzles. I don't know how hard you like them. One is two hundred pieces; the other is 550. I thought that you'd like that one because it will take you a lot of time to do."

"I appreciate it… may I?"

She nodded and he all but dove to the boxes. He lifted the puzzle that was two hundred pieces and he sighed at the picture on the box. It felt like forever since he had seen a green field and blue skies. His hand traced over the bunnies sitting in the field of dandelions.

Fuu nervously settled into a chair. "I know it's a little bit childish, but it's just so nice and open…"

"Yes," Edward agreed. He laid it down as if it were the Bible itself. His blue eyes had to pull themselves away from the glossy, colorful lid. He then picked up the other one. The second puzzle had a flower vase. Edward's expression softened as he traced the outlines of the flowers in the vase, naming them. He sighed when he touched the tiger lily. "These were mom's favourite… Don't look like that, Fuu. I... I will treasure them. I really will." He lifted his face to hers, finally. There were tears forming in his eyes. "Thank you."

Fuu felt herself becoming teary-eyed as well. "I'm happy to do it, Edward-kun. I'll get you come new ones when you're bored with these. You have another one to open." She pushed the largest box towards him. This one Fuu had actually wrapped. She smiled encouragingly, fluffing her blonde hair. "Go on. Open it."

He pulled the box to him nervously. A deck of cards was wrapped in the ribbon that held the box shut. Edward pulled them out, wishing that he could share the cards with the man next door to him. Then he noticed there were air holes in the box. He gasped and hurried to rip off the lid of the box, his heart pounding.

Staring up at him was a fluffy, small, white bunny in a cage. Edward lifted him out, not remembering to breath. His chest hurt when he took a breath of air. Slowly, he lifted the latch of the cage and stuck his hand in. Without a single trace of fear, as if drawn by the warmth of his body, the small bunny hopped over to it. Edward's adolescent hands wrapped around him and lifted him from the cage.

"Oh… Oh… _God_, Fuu!"

She dried her cheeks before anyone could catch her crying. "It's a dwarf bunny. They like to be held a lot."

"I love him." He cradled the bunny to his chest, letting his thumb stroke the fluffy white fur. The bunny seemed just as taken with Edward.

"Do you know what you're going to name him?'

"Yes. Alice."

Fuu smiled. He was like a little kid. There was no sign of acknowledgement that he had given a female name to a male bunny, or any sign that it had been something unusual. It was a white rabbit. To Edward, it seemed natural that he should name the bunny Alice.

He looked up at her with a smile. It was a happy, perfectly normal smile, but it was more suited to an eight year old child than to a teenager. Fuu smiled back.

"Do you want to hold Alice?" Fuu shook her head no. Edward was trying to be a good host. "How about a game of cards, then?"

She slid from her chair to the floor. "I think I have time for a card game."

* * *

Sango recognized that the next thing she had to do was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. Once, after she'd eaten human flesh and killed countless human beings to save herself and Miroku, she wished that she could have died in the grief that followed. She had soiled herself. She had never killed a human being before, and after that night, even the most familiar of animal flesh reminded her of that night. Eating meat, living normally and dealing with the grief had been the hardest thing to overcome in her life at the point. 

That was two years ago. This was a different kind of grief. It touched her down to her very core, so deep that Sango did not know anything in her went so deep. Her hands were cold and shaking as she stepped off the elevator.

It was too soon. She was sure that she still smelled like Miroku, even though she had gone home and scrubbed herself as vigorously as she could. Repeatedly. She was sure that she still smelled like his bedroom: like sandalwood and candles and his Old Spice deodorant. Urahara would know. He was sure that he would know. Her eyes were still red from crying.

Her uncle had told her that the only way she could remain in the IBSP was if she married a demon. Sango refused to let her job go. If she couldn't be with Miroku because any intimacy would hurt him, then she wanted to keep her job. She wanted to make sure that the people she loved could grow up safe and sound. She swallowed and her saliva tasted bitter. It sat burning like a hot ember in her shaking stomach.

Sango felt like she was killing herself. She fought back tears and succeeded, but only because she'd had years of practice. She hated herself. She knew what she was costing herself. She'd had love—she'd known she had. She had experienced _real_ love. That was something not everyone had. She had given herself willingly over to that love. She had thrown everything she had into it and the love had been returned to her a thousand times over, again and again. Every harsh thing she'd said had been forgiven. Every harsh thing Miroku had said had been forgiven even before it had even been said. Nothing Miroku could do could make Sango hate him, not unless it violated her ethics. Arguing over comic books or dinner menus did not violate her ethics and they had only made him seem more appealing. He was debonair, yes, but he was still so energetic and childish…

And Sango had turned her back on that love. She had taken what she had wanted from it and then left it. She had taken Miroku, and then she had left him.

She licked her lips. They were moist already, but she did it out of anxiety. Sango smoothed her skirt and brushed her long hair back down into place. Miroku loved her hair down. He loved to play with it and brush it for her. She could already imagine someone else's hands running through it and she knew that it would never be the same.

She knocked on the door and laughed quietly at herself. God—what was she playing at? She had ruined one love and now she was going to destroy another. She was being selfish. She wanted a partner she knew she could work with, who loved her, and whom she loved in return. But it would never be the same. It would be strong with age and camaraderie, something her relationship with Miroku had occasionally lacked in, but it would be a pale flame compared to Miroku. She'd be giving away a shattered and broken heart.

The door opened. Sango offered the blonde man a small smile.

"Hello, Urahara."

He smiled at her, arms out in friendly, overdone greeting that was so typical of his flamboyant smile. As soon as he saw her eyes, his arms stopped. Slowly, they wrapped around her in comfort rather than welcome. He led her into the office, away from the prying eyes of the other workers. He even shoed out his cat out before he shut the door.

That done, he wrapped his arms around her. The coarse, familiar material of his green clothes made the tears start to fall from Sango's eyes. God help her, she was being selfish! But it was for the better good. She had to justify it with that. Things would continue to run normally, life would go on, and people would be safe.

"Sango," Kisuke Urahara purred. He lifted her chin with two fingers, gently using his thumb to brush away her tears. "Sango, love, whatever is the matter?"

"Miroku… Miroku and I broke up," she sobbed.

She took perverse satisfaction in the way that his face fell in sympathy and the way his eyes brightened in anticipation. Slowly, he spoke, letting her lean her weight on him to hide his expression. At that moment, Urahara didn't trust it. "I see… how did happen, Sango?"

"It was my choice."

That took him by surprise. He lifted his face and pulled her off of him to see her face clearly. There were tears, but there was no sign of remorse in her eyes. Her expression was lying; he was sure of it, but he could find no fault in it. Sango was a good cop. She knew how to bluff. He could feel the mask she was wearing, but he could not detect where it ended and where it begun. As far as he could tell, she had done it and she did not regret it.

"But… Sango… you nearly died to save him. You… you _chose_ him."

"Yes. And now I realize that choosing Miroku over you was a mistake, Urahara. I can't… I can't be myself around him. I can't! I'm _me_!" she cried, pulling out of his hands. She paced around his desk. "I'm Tora Sango! I'm a goddamn tiger! I'm a wild animal trappedin nothing but this human shell and I can't be myself around him! I always have to restrain myself. I always have to slow down to keep up with his speed! I can bruise him if I kiss him too hard. I always have to walk around egg shells and I can't stand to do it anymore!"

Urahara gave her a patient, understanding expression. "Every relationship has its problems."

"Do normal relationships have to deal with renegade vampire, succubae, or demons?"

Urahara stroked his chin and sat on his desk. He slowly slid his hat from his head to brush his hair in consideration. "Well, now, I suppose that does put a little spin on it…"

Sango leaned across the desk, staring him in the eyes. Her eyes were glowing radiant gold, the light reflecting back in her dark hair as it swayed back and forth over her shoulder. Urahara's attention was captured by it. His fingers itched to touch it. "I realize my mistake, Urahara. I should have picked you. I can always be myself around you. I always could. I don't have to watch myself around you."

There was a hint of amusement on his face. "No, Sango, you wouldn't. I would have to watch myself around you."

She hadn't considered that before. She thought that maybe he was lying. Sango straightened and crossed her arms, her chin held high. "You're lying to me. You've never had to watch yourself around me before."

Urahara laughed. It was a pleasant, inviting sound. It wasn't as deep as Miroku's was, but it was open and lighthearted. His blue eyes were dazzling as he looked at Sango across the desk. So little space between them—he wanted to pounce across the desk and pin her to it and show her how much he'd had to restrain himself. Sango's heart leapt to her throat as she read the changes in his body language. His muscles were tightening, getting ready to move. Still, his voice was it's normal friendly tone.

"Do you remember the Christmas I gave you your first kiss?" he inquired.

The memory made Sango smile in earnest. It had been a good kiss, full of fond memories. She treasured it as much as she treasured losing her virginity to Miroku, her first kiss with Miroku (her first _real_ kiss and not the one he had given her in the hallway upon their assignment together), her first roller coaster ride, or receiving her first gun from the IBSP. "How could I forget?"

Urahara's posture changed from sitting to a lazy lounge. It required very little. His eyes were sly as he studied her. "You were young, then. I was old. I still am old, Sango. I _am_ ready and I _have_ been ready for many things that you still aren't ready for. Had I not been able to restrain myself, I might have kissed you too hard, or too deeply, and touched you inappropriately. I have always restrained myself around, Sango, and I always will."

She reacted smoothly, accepting this information and then dismissing it. "You wouldn't bruise me if you kissed me."

He arched an eyebrow with a smile. "Wouldn't I?"

The heart in her throat began to pound. It made her feel dizzy. "No, you wouldn't."

"Sango…" He motioned for her to come closer. Sango sat on the desk with him and he placed a hand over hers as it lay on the desk. "Sango, you love Miroku. We both know that. Why not give it more of a chance?"

"I'm a big girl, Urahara. I know when I made a mistake." She leaned closer to him. Their breaths were touching. He smelled good. He always smelled good. Sango lowered her eyes a little, flirting. "I made a mistake. I care for Miroku, but I belong with you. I need someone strong, Urahara."

"Miroku is strong."

"No, he isn't."

He could hear her racing pulse. Sango knew he could. His own heart was pumping faster in response to her arousal. Deep down, Sango wanted it to go away. She wanted to curl up into a ball and to deny that she was attracted to anyone but Miroku. She hated her body for being so treasonous at the same time that she had needed to rely on the way her body would react to Urahara.

She was a tiger, deep down, _and_ a human. The human part liked prettier faces and brains, but the tiger wanted raw power. Miroku, when he was mad, was like black lightning: quick and deadly. Urahara _was_ power. Immortal and never-ending power, like the sun. Urahara was the sun, and Sango reveled in his light.

His hand was creeping up her arm. It felt strange and alien. Her breath quickened at his touch. It was raising the hairs of her arms. Sango felt like she was being swallowed in light as he leaned in. His lips were inches from hers but she could feel his breath on his face. His scent was overwhelming, as was his mind. She felt suddenly so young and defenseless, and yet so safe in his hands. If he weren't so blond, she might have been able to imagine it was Miroku, but only their eyes were similar: the same pale blue, though Miroku's had more grey.

"You don't love me, do you, Sango?"

It was a trap. She was sure of it, but she couldn't lie. Her mask had shattered the moment that he began to lean in to kiss her. There was yearning, but it was lust, not passion.

"I love you as my friend; I want you as a lover. In time, maybe I can love the lover as well as the friend."

"Then what is _this_?" he asked, referring to the growing heat between them.

Sango forced herself to swallow. She didn't like the idea of closing her lips. Her body wanted them open for air and to taste him. "Genetics." Her eyes were focused on his lips. She couldn't bring herself to lift her eyes and look at his face directly. "I'm attracted to you because you would give me strong children. That is an animal's goal in lie: survival of the fittest. This is just… animal magnetism."

He smiled. He agreed completely, and he accepted it as such. She was free game as well, and she was his. He'd wanted her for too long. Urahara couldn't wait any longer. He would accept friendship and the role of the seducer being offered to him. He could accept not being equal in bed. Sango was still young, and he had patience enough to wait to be an equal in bed. At the very least, they were equals out of it, and that was what mattered. They had a strong friendship on which to grow and change to meet each other.

Sango's heart faltered when she saw his smile.

His lips closed over hers. He tasted sweet, like bottled pop. His smell was strong, drawing her in as his body pressed against hers. Stacks of papers were buried beneath her body. His kiss had never been like this: never been so strong, never been so demanding and commanding. His lips were plied to hers, she followed his touches hungrily, pausing only when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. His hands were boiling to the touch.

She couldn't breath. His lips were there, begging for her touch, taking her and tasting her, relishing over and over again until the sensation was almost bordering on painful. Her lips throbbed from his kiss, and yet her traitorous body demanded more. She was burning from passion. She clung to him, moaning, and pulling his hand from her skin. She was still not ready for him to touch her like that, the way Miroku did. But—oh!—with this touch and this overwhelming power flowing through him, it was hard not to give herself to him then and there. She wanted to, but she knew if she did she'd shatter completely.

His tongue ran over hers, searing her skin. Sango's lips parted further as her hips bucked to meet his. She gasped at the sensation. Now she knew what he meant when he had told her that he'd had to hold back. She was drinking in liquid fire. He _was_ the sun. He was fire, pouring into her, and filling her, giving her rebirth and death all in one agonizing touch after another.

But fire did not scare Sango. She kissed him back, eagerly plunging into the scorching flames and hearing him moan in pleasure from her unexpected touch. She inwardly smiled with satisfaction. This was what she had wanted from Miroku and she had never receive. She could not be herself around him. She had no qualms when she nipped at Urahara's lips and sucked on the droplets of crimson fire that grew against his bottom lip; the wound would heal in an instant for Urahara.

Sango wanted to be touched. She wanted release from the flames enveloping her body. She moaned, cautious not to say any names. Urahara was not psychic. He might be able to implant thoughts in her mind, but her desires were safe.

She fantasized it was Miroku touching her.

He moaned her name, licking her neck and nipping it at playfully. His teeth did not break her skin; some control still remained. Sango could feel her tail flicking up and down against her calf. His hand stroked in and she nearly broke the kiss at the sensation. It felt _good_. She squirmed under him, knocking a container of pens over in the process. Sango could feel her body shuddering from the simple touches. She wished that he'd bite her, claim her, _do_ something! If he took her throat into his mouth at that moment, she knew that she'd orgasm, feeling that smoldering breath running down her neck and down her shirt…

"Next time you two should lock the door."

Sango thought that he looked like shit. His black hair was ruffled and his skin was pale; too pale. He was wearing black clothes, his Oxford shirt buttoned to the highest button. Even his jeans were black. He looked like he had been spun of white silk and shadows, and he was haunting. Everything about him was shades, except for his eyes. They were piercing blue. Sango felt like they had stabbed her in the heart.

She'd felt like she'd stabbed him too.

He didn't say anything else. He didn't even slam the door behind him when he turned and left. Sango would have preferred hot anger to the silent one she was receiving. It broke her heart to hear the heavy metal door of Urahara's door shut quietly with a click. The tears broke, a cascading damn, and she clung to Urahara, sobbing apologies.

"I thought I could do it. I thought that it would be better to hurt him once and get it over with then to keep dragging things out. I didn't think it would hurt this much!"

Urahara held her for a long time without saying anything. He pulled them off his desk and he sat in his chair, holding her and letting her cry. Eventually he called her name, softly. His hands delicately stroked her hair, letting it run between his long fingers. "Sango… you lied to me, didn't you?"

"I didn't!"

His blue eyes were already forgiving, but it was his tone that touched her more than anything else. He was disappointed in her. "Sango, how did you tell Miroku that you wanted to break up with him?"

"In… In a letter."

"Sango… your uncle taught you better than that. I know that you're braver than that. You should have done it face-to-face. Miroku didn't know that you were really breaking up with him, did he? He didn't want to believe it."

"I don't know!"

Urahara offered her a small smile. "If I were dating you and you wanted to leave me, I would never believe it, Sango. Why didn't you do it face to face?"

"Because… because if I did it like that I knew that it would never actually happen! It would hurt too much! It would hurt _both_ of us too much!"

He gingerly placed his palm against his cheek, giving her a kiss on her forehead. There was no fire; just Urahara, the wise and comforting friend she'd always had. "Then maybe you couldn't do it face to face because it was never actually meant to happen." He took in a wavering breath. It was time to let Sango fly… again. "You know what you have to do, Kitten."

The use of her old name made her start to cry again. She tightened her arms around him and buried her cheek against the fabric of his shirt. It was coarse and it smelled like him. It was better than a teddy bear. "I'm scared, Urahara."

This time he could offer her no words of comfort.

* * *

To be continued... 


	16. The Group

AN: Just a few friendly reminders and information. Item the first: thou shalt not hold me responsible for cliffhangers. Item the second: Hunter and _The Garden_ are not my creations. They are the property of the NanoWriMo of H. McGugan, aka, my Cleric of Saresh, Anya, aka Sparrow S. Hellcat, aka a good very man other things. I am using them with her permission just for shits and giggles. We were bored in class.

Chapter Fifteen: The Group

"I give great head if you want."

Miroku's head shot up. Maybe he was drunker than he thought he was. Had he heard the bartender correctly? Miroku studied the bartender of the local tavern, _The Garden_. Hunter was a damn attractive man. With his blue eyes and curly blonde hair, an obvious foreigner, Hunter must have men many of the men interested. With the twinkle in his eye, there was a liveliness about him, but his colorings made him look almost angelic… until he smiled at you. Then you suddenly became aware of something lurking underneath that silken exterior that was hardly angelic. That, and most angels didn't have a thing for mesh tank shirts.

Miroku realized that Hunter was holding a beer. He meant that he poured beer that didn't have a lot of foam. Miroku drowsily hugged his bottle of Wild Turkey closer, pouring himself another shot with an unsteady hand. "Naw. I want the hard shit tonight."

Hunter frowned. Miroku was a regular patron of their bar, but since two years ago when Shabranigdo had returned he had frequented _The Garden_ less and less. Miroku was too busy working to get drunk then. But before that, he'd always brought women that Hutner's co-workers had verified as delectable. Apparently Miroku had fine taste in women. It was a shame, Hunter thought, that he didn't have such fine taste in men.

"You look like shit."

"I feel like shit, and I'm not even drunk yet. I've only had two shots."

Hunter eyed him again. It was nerves that made his hand unsteady then. He arched an eyebrow. "Girl trouble?"

Apparently he'd said the magic word. Miroku slammed the Wild Turkey down on the bar top. "Fuck! Did you know that I'd been dating the same chick for the past two years, Hunter? Two bloody goddamn years! I worshipped the ground she walked on! She was my _muse_, and then she writes me some Dear John letter and the next thing I know, two nights later I walk in to find her making out with the equivalent of her ex-boyfriend!"

The cute barman whistled and picked up a cup to dry with the terry cloth slung over his shoulder. "Two days ago, huh?"

"Yeah. I made myself pretty scarce as of late. Barely even went home. Hit the bars."

Hunter pouted. "And you didn't hit my little pub, first? I'm a little hurt, Miroku."

The dark-haired man smiled and shot back a third glass of alcohol. It burned, but it made him feel alive. "Don't be. I got shit faced. I hit up a new place. I didn't want you or anyone I knew seeing me in that kind of condition." He saw the question on Hunter's face before the barman could ask it. Miroku grunted a response. "The first night it was tequila shots. The next night I tried to be fun. Had some of those X-Rated shots. You know, the ones with the fun names like screaming orgasm?"

Hunter smiled fondly. "I know the type."

Miroku held up the Wild Turkey. "Tonight, it's reminiscing. I don't know why, but there's something about a drink called Wild Turkey that just suits my mood tonight. I don't want to get shit faced. I just want to get so pleasantly drunk so that I can get rid of this two-day-old hangover."

The barman chuckled and set down the dry glass behind the bar. Someone waved him over and he motioned he'd be right there. "You know, Miroku, the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else. Alcohol kills brain cells and liver, but sex? Well, unless they have an STD, it's the best form of stress release God gave us. Maybe you should indulge in it. On that note, I'd like to remind you that while _The Garden_ may close, its bartender is always open."

Miroku shook his head. His hair fell over his face. He hadn't even brushed it that morning, and he still had bed-head. Hunter thought it was adorable. "Thanks, Hunter. I think I actually needed to be hit on by you, for once."

Hunter gave him a wink and moved on, leaving Miroku with his Wild Turkey. Four more shots and one hour later, Miroku couldn't remember how to spell the word hangover, let alone what one felt like. The bar was pretty quiet for a bar. But, then again, it was a Monday night. It meant that Miroku had a perfect view of the auras across the room swirling together. Hunter was busy doing bartender-things and was unable to have a conversation. Miroku was pleasantly hammered, loquacious, and had no ear to listen to him.

He looked around the bar and spotted a familiar face. Picking up his bottle, Miroku went to the booth and sat down. He gave the woman a smile that would normally have made them squirm in their seat with anticipation. "Hello, Naga."

The woman looked up from her empty drink. If ever there had been a face and a body built for pornography, Naga was it. She was all chest, her chin pointed and elflike, giving her a rather juvenile appearance. Normally dressing in blacks to match her waist-length hair, Miroku was surprised to see her dressed in a modest shirt and skirt. Normally boisterous—especially after she'd been drinking—Naga seemed to lack the energy Miroku remembered from university.

Maybe it was just him, but Naga even looked a little…peaky. There were obvious bags under her eyes and her make up was off, giving her a haggard and tired appearance. Naga smiled when she saw Miroku, but it was fake.

"What's your poison?" she asked. He showed her the bottle. Naga stretched out her arm and offered him the empty cup. "Care to share?" She swallowed back a shot after Miroku had filled her cup. Naga smacked her lips. Her chest bounced from the motion.

"So what are you doing here?"

Naga shuddered. Her dark eyes held a worn appearance. She was more than just physically tired. Her hands gripped her cup. "Just imbibing alcohol. It gets me ready. Lowers inhibitions. You ever feel good, feel really good?" Miroku nodded, not really following. "I found a way to feel good, but I'm always nervous before I go. I always go. I have to go. It hurts if I don't, but I always need a drink or two first. I can always feel all those eyes on me, watching me, enjoying me…"

Miroku smirked. "You sure have changed from university. Back then, I seem to recall you getting drunk and stripping on table tops so that men would pay attention to you and realize that they can't have you."

She smiled, but it wasn't real. "They worshipped me. Now I realize that such a thing is sacrilege. We have to worship _Him_. The Sustainer. Do you know of him?" Miroku shook his head. Naga reached across and gripped his hand fervently, talking quickly. "He tells us that the Creator and the Keeper of the dead fought and killed each other. During their war, he was born. He gives us everything we need to live. He gives us pleasure, and food, and love, and joy and life! He makes sure that we lead full lives. All he asks is that he gives us over to him. All he asks is that we take pleasure in his gifts. And we do. We gather together three nights a week and we worship him. His avatar comes to us: sometimes a man, and sometimes a woman, but always Him. Always the Sustainer! By rejoicing in him, we are easing our death, for he takes pity on those who follow in his ways and live life to the fullest."

Miroku swallowed. The whole thing seemed kind of hard to swallow. Naga looked at him so hopefully though, that he couldn't help but smile waveringly. "Sounds peachy keen," he lied.

"People still look at me with lust and I can't stand it. We are taught that we are the Sustainer's patrons, not his tools. If I look appealing, it's because I have good genetics, not because I am some object to be lusted over and fawned over. But… but… but there is one way that the Sustainer uses us as tools. He cannot come into this world. He must remain in Heaven, watching over us. When we couple with his avatar, he enters into us partially so that everyone at once may feel the joy of being with the Sustainer. It is _rapture_, Miroku."

She stood up. "It begins soon. Come with me, please Miroku? Let me share my new joy with you!" Her dark eyes were brimming with tears. "You can keep me safe from the lechers, won't you? I just want to go and worship. Trust me. You'll like it! Nothing can ever feel so good as receiving the blessing of the Sustainer."

Something about the situation made Miroku's skin tingle. It didn't feel right. Miroku may have been drunk but first and foremost he was a scholar. He hadn't worked his ass of to get his degree in religion and history for nothing. Miroku knew a cult when he heard one. Not wanting to be rude, and perhaps more than a little curious to see what a cult looked like up close, Miroku offered Naga his arm. She didn't seem to be capable to walk by herself, for whatever reason.

"I'll escort you there, Naga, at the very least."

The place of worship wasn't too far from the bar. It looked like any normal building. Miroku was disturbed that it was so close to the university. What disturbed him more was how many of the men and women entering were his age, or worse—that he knew them. They were all educated people. They shouldn't have been taken in by the false church and its false lies and outrageous claims. Many of the people entering were shivering in anticipation. Naga too, was finding it hard to move as she neared the building, and her teeth were chattering with cold. Miroku had never seen it first hand, but he knew what it was. It was withdrawl. They were junkies.

The plan had originally been that he was just going to drop Naga off, but as it neared the door to the building he spotted an all-too familiar face. It was like Miroku was looking at himself; for the first time he realized that. Suichiro had the same black, unruly hair. He was taller and more heavily built than Miroku, spending more time under a bench press than in the books. His chin was a little more pointed, and his eyes were a much darker shade of blue, more like sapphires than cloudy-grey, but they looked alike. Miroku recognized another player when he saw them.

Naga was talking. She was thanking him for escorting her. Miroku gripped her arm. Shabranigdo was involved in this somehow… he just didn't know how. Maybe his pride had gotten a hold of him, or maybe it was the alcohol, but Miroku didn't really feel like calling for backup. He was a member of the IBSP. He had his gun, and his brain, and his psychic ability. Miroku had made up his mind. He was going in by himself.

"I think I changed my mind, Naga. I think I want to see what goes on in there. But the man at the door… I know him. We don't like each other. Can we wait until he stops greeting people?"

At the very thought of having to wait longer to enter into the Church, Naga's grip on his arm tightened, but she smiled and nodded. "I understand. We can wait." Her dark eyes were dancing as she stared up at him. "Oh, Miroku. Thank you. I'll feel so much safer knowing that you're going to be there to make sure that… that I don't get…" She shuddered and glanced towards the building across the street.

Men were walking in. They were older and cleanly dressed. They weren't shivering in anticipation like the university students were. They weren't junkies. Miroku could tell right away that they were demons. They walked with too much grace, and they simply _felt_ different. He glared at them when he saw that they were eyeing Naga hungrily, their eyes lingering on her long legs and her large chest. She whimpered, as if their gazes hurt, and she moved closer to Miroku, praying under her breath. Miroku wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

That explained why she no longer dressed in the skin-tight clothes or the leather pants. It would draw too much attention to her. These men already eyed her like starving wolves after a sleeping lamb. She didn't need the leather or the tight clothes to draw them to her. The blouse and the skirt made her look normal—or that was the goal.

Finally, Suichiro left the front door, following the latest batch of demons in. Naga was moving forward quickly. Miroku followed, worrying she had lost control of herself and needed to go in. Then she saw that she was hurrying because one of the men was shutting the heavy iron door behind him, a padlock in hand. Miroku's skin crawled at the idea of being locked inside.

"Wait!" Naga called. "Wait!"

The man with the padlock looked up and smiled when he saw a familiar face. He kept the door partially closed. She'd have to squeeze by him to get into the building, pressing herself up against him. The man's dark brown eyes were amused. "You're late, Naga. Maybe we should keep you outside as punishment."

She whimpered in what sounded like pain. Her voice held a note of panic. "Oh no! Please don't! I swear that I won't be late again! I'm late because I was busy getting new blood. This is my friend." She grabbed Miroku's hand and drew him forward. "This is my friend from school. He wants to see what our ritual is like."

The man at the door, Miroku realized, was a body guard. Underneath the business suit the man wore there was muscle—a lot of it. The guard eyed Miroku. He seemed more interested in Naga. "I was hoping you could stay beside me in tonight's devotion."  
Her nails threatened to break his skin, she clung to Miroku so tightly. "No, not tonight. I don't want to leave Miroku all alone."

The man's eyes, for just a second, widened. He recognized the name. Slowly, the man smiled, but he did not open the door any wider. "You can both come in then. I hope you find the night entertaining."

Naga sighed with relief. She didn't seem to care that she had to brush by him to get into the building. She was so busy to get in that she didn't care her breasts pressed against his chest and that he liked it. Miroku could sense the man's obvious arousal.

Expecting the man to open the door wider for him, he didn't. Miroku glared and pushed his way into the room, forced to touch the man with his body on the way by. What he hadn't been expecting was for the man to reach out and stop him with one hand, the other sliding down between Miroku's legs to grope him. Miroku's hand itched to go for his gun as the man leaned in, revealing a hint of fang.

"We have an initiation ceremony here, you know. Blood in, blood out. It means that to join, we share blood, and to get out, we share blood. I'd be more than happy with you, _Miroku_, to have a taste of blood and initiate you."

Liquid fear poured into the pit of his stomach. He was inches away from a real, goddamn vampire and the bastard had his hands over Miroku's cock. He balled up all the bravery he could find. "I'm not quite joining yet."

Miroku felt like a cad as he let his eyes flirt. The man was physically attracted to him and Miroku was going to use it. It wasn't, with friends like Hunter, the first or the last time that Miroku would get groped by another man. What made him feel ill was the fact that he was forcing himself to flirt back and it came quite naturally. A man was little different than a woman. Miroku delicately peeled the man's hand off of his body and gave him a wink, not unlike the one Hunter had given him earlier. "But if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know."

The man pouted, having been denied his treat, and let Miroku pass. For the first time Miroku was able to look at the so-called church. Wooden floors made up most of the room. People knelt on the hard floor and huddled groups that slowly moved into rows. Naga motioned him over the back of the room, the only place where there were still spots to sit available. Even at the back of the room, it was painfully obvious what the altar was. Made up of rock, it was ornately decorated with men and woman of myth involved in complicated fornications. Slender grooves carved into the rock spread from the center of the rock slab to the engraved sides. There were four shackles welded into the rock. Miroku had seen altars like that before.

He had nearly died on one. That was why he knew the shackles were just the right size to hold down a human. That was why he knew that when their blood was spilled, it would run down the grooves and coat the engraved sides, making those ungodly fornications stand out even more. Miroku felt ill, and instantly sober. He wished he still had his Wild Turkey.

He regretted not calling for back up.

Miroku took his seat as Suichiro climbed up on stage. He wore trim black robes that made his skin seem pale and his lips darker and more inviting. He stood in front of the altar and lifted his hands, beginning a greeting and a prayer.

Naga rocked on her knees, her hands clasped to her chest and her eyes shut as she prayed fervently. Many of the others did the same. Miroku lowered his head, trying to seem inconspicuous, but he did not rock back and forth. He wasn't even sure what the so-called priest was saying. Everything rather blurred together.

Then something hit that he hadn't been expecting. A wave of pleasure that his skin tingle. Miroku gasped at the sensation; Naga basked in it.

"Isn't it wonderful?"

Miroku didn't close off his mind, not yet. He understood why people were rocking. The psychic touch made his skin feel hot. Rocking made the humid air of the building wash over it and alleviate some of the heat. Instead, he probed out gently with his mind, trying to find the source of the psychic pleasure. Tendrils of it worked back and forth between the rows of people. It was strongest at the front, and Miroku dared not probe that with his mind. There was a distinct feeling of _maleness_ to the scent, but he could not pin point the origin of it. Suichiro, still praying at the front of the group, seemed the most obvious choice, but Miroku could guarantee that it was not him. It was too strong for Suichiro, and it seemed to be coming from underneath him.

Finally, the prayers were done. The psychic feelings receded, but that was even worse. The feelings had aroused the mind and body without giving it any kind of satisfaction. Men and women on the floor alike rocked harder than ever, their arms holding themselves and crying out softly for more.

Suichiro's voice ran clear across the room. "My friends, the avatar has selected one among you to share in this night's devotions. Do not forget, my friends, that the god which created you ordered you to go forth and procreate, but it was the Sustainer which gave you joy in the action, and the Keeper which gave you lust. Beware of lust, but envelop yourself in the pleasure of sex. There is nothing shameful in the sharing of an intimate act with two grown adults, regardless of their sex or race.

"The one the avatar has selected is a symbol of the Keeper's lust. You should not lust after her, but you should wish to please her. Since you thought only of your own pleasure, rather than the heartfelt worship of your master, the avatar has selected her. He will give her his gift and give her pleasure."

Suichiro began to move through the crowds. The men, knowing that they were not going to be selected, lowered their heads and slunk away from the folds of his black robes. The women all lifted their heads, staring at him hopefully, each wishing that they had the opportunity to receive the gift of their god. Suichiro kept moving towards the back. Miroku could taste the sweat on his upper lip. He let his body shiver with fear: it looked like anticipation. Suichiro would recognize him. He didn't want to be recognized.

Suichiro did not even acknowledge that there was a man beside Naga. She stared up at him hopefully, tears of joy clinging to her eyelashes. Suichiro smiled down at her: it was the same playful, charming, and heart-stopping smile Miroku had perfected. He reached down for Naga, but he did not touch her. She lifted of her own accord, her body boneless, as if by the magic of the hand hovering by her cheek. Suichiro's eyes were locked with hers.

"Naga, my master has selected you as a bride for tonight."

On the ground, Miroku felt his stomach try to recoil. Of all the lies in that so-called church, there was finally an ounce of truth! Suichiro was working as a pretty face for the cult. All of it, Miroku realized, was another front to get Shabranigdo the blood he needed to survive. The door was padlocked. Miroku's whole body was telling him to run, but he couldn't. He couldn't get out. There was one door out, locked, and there were no windows. He could stop it by trying to shoot all the demons. Suichiro he could hit, from this proximity, right between the eyes, but he didn't have enough bullets to take down the two vampires guarding the door. Besides, if he shot the priest, he'd have the congregation on his hands trying to kill him. He had seven rounds against more than a hundred people.

Miroku shut his eyes, trying to force back the tears. He couldn't watch.

_I'm sorry, Naga._

The priest led her to the front of the room, up to the altar. Naga felt like she was floating on air. She was overjoyed to be chosen. It was the highest exultation was could get. She focused on Suichiro's deep blue eyes as he undressed her. He slowly slid off her shirt, placing it on the altar for a pillow. Her skirt came next—that was carelessly tossed into the audience. She stood facing the congregation. They moaned in expectation as the priests' black-robed body stood behind her to remove her bra. That, too, disappeared into the audience. He removed her panties with a few snips of a small pair of scissors. That simply disappeared. Naga shivered in the air. Suichiro placed a kiss on her cheek, letting his hands wander down her back.

"You're a very brave woman, Naga. Come, lie down on the bed."

He helped her up on the altar. She lay down against it, and the psychic energy began swirling around the room again. Naga was right in the center of it. Her back arched and she moaned. Naga was a damn beautiful woman. Miroku could feel himself becoming aroused just from the sound of her voice.

Miroku began closing his mind from the psychic energy swirling around the room. He let only a small portion go through, fearing that if he shut his mind completely the owner would realize that he was a small black hole in the room. Instead, he tried to make himself inconspicuous. His skin was covered in goose bumps. He knew who that psychic energy belonged to.

On the stage with the altar, Suichiro was closing the shackles over Naga's ankles and wrists. There was a hint of fear in her eyes and he leaned down to explain. "The avatar may have a human body, but he is god-like. These shackles will keep you safe from being torn apart."

Naga licked her lips nervously. "Will it hurt?"

Suichiro nodded. "Not at first. At first it will only be pleasure, so long as you don't fight the avatar. Then will come the pain as your body wears out and his keep going. Then will come bliss."

She sighed. "Bliss sounds good."

Miroku's eyes were still on the ground. He could not watch what they were doing to Naga. He knew that she was taking pleasure in it. He could feel her pleasure washing over them sharing with each of them. Miroku was, perhaps, more open than any of them to what was happening. Even with the shields up, he was an empath and could not completely get rid of that talent. He could feel Naga's body shake with pleasure as if it were his own. He could feel the shackles on his limbs. He could feel lips, tongues, and fingers probing him. Miroku wanted to die from the feeling of invasion. He hadn't asked for this; he didn't want this.

People were moaning and rolling on the floor, trying to relieve their heat. They reminded him of horny animals. They were calling out and begging for release. Suichiro barked at them. "Quiet! The bride must be ready for my master! Rather than wish for release already, wish for her to be ready sooner!"

Naga's voice was a little hoarse from moaning. "I am ready, Suichiro."

The man turned his face to her. "Are you certain?"

Naga nodded. "Yes."

He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "Than call him, Naga. Call him to your side."

Miroku could hear it all. Fear doused over him, freezing him to the spot when he heard her voice cry out in dying need: "Shabranigdo! Shabrangido!"

He groaned. Calling out a demon's name like that made the demon stronger. Had they been meeting like this, three nights a week, for two years? If each person had to call out that name to make this so-called avatar come, then no wonder the psychic trails were so strong! Shrabanigdo was using a human pawn to arouse them and then was feeding off of someone's soul during sex, and was turning their worship, their devoted name-calling ceremony into a way to gain more energy. Then he could turn that energy back into the congregation in the form of psychic energies, and they would get even more followers.

From out of the ground behind a stage a platform began rising. Stage smoke poured out around the stage, like a lover's gently folding arms. Naga was squirming, tears running down her face from the need for the avatar. Emerging from the smoke was the most enchanting man Miroku had ever seen. Strong and well built and naked from head to do, he looked like a movie star. His face was well-sculpted, his eyes the color of a calm ocean, and his shimmering white hair fell down his back to his waist. He was also well endowed, already erect as he strode forward. At the sighed of him, Naga squirmed again, eyeing him from head to toe.

"You called, my bride?"

"I… I need you…"

The man smirked. There was nothing human in that smile. He reached out and he touched her. Miroku could feel the psychic energy increasing. He could all but feel that finger trace his way from his chest to beneath his belt.

"You're not quite ready yet."

Naga whimpered in pain. The man was still smiling, drinking in the way she so fervently needed him. Suichiro moved forward, but the man smiled at him and pushed him away. "I can handle this on my own. It would be my pleasure to tend to my bride personally."

The man's eyes scanned the crowd. They locked on Miroku's head. Slowly, Miroku lifted his head and stared back. Miroku recognized Shabranigdo in any body. That gaze was so cruel it hurt. There were no emotions to glean from his eyes. There was only emptiness.

He felt that psychic hold increase in the room tenfold. Some people, already unable to deal with the feelings coursing through them, were tumbling around the floor together in fornication. The avatar was letting those people slide. Instead, he was focusing it all on Miroku, trying to weaken him. Miroku bit his lips as he felt his skin begin to burn. He pulled his eyes away, but it was too late. He was connected.

Everything Naga felt, his empathy felt. Everything that the avatar he did, Miroku felt. He felt like his brain was on overload. Tears of pain dripped from his cheeks. He could feel his shields being worn away. His whole body was throbbing in pain. He was fighting the connection. He knew that if he didn't he'd feel the pleasure, and then he'd be like a junkie, like one of them.

Finally, unable to control himself, the man plunged himself into Naga. She let out a small scream of pleasure. Her back arched and her arms shook as he began moving back and forth, pushing into her deeper with each thrust. Miroku's arms were shaking as he tried to keep himself kneeling on the ground. He could feel wave after wave of pleasure rolling over the ground. People were screaming in ecstasy. It was an orgy. It was a goddamn psychic orgy!

Finally, after an eternity, Naga slumped back down on the metal slab, panting. The man pulled back. He was still erect. Miroku's body was on fire, but the connection was broken, and all he was left with was a mind-numbing pain. His skin felt hot to the touch. The smoke again enclosed the altar, and the man and woman disappeared. Only Suichiro remained on the stage.

"The ceremony is over."

Miroku longed to get out of the building, for the cool night air. Instead, he felt cold, undead skin press against his cheek. The vampire who had been at the doorway was staring down at him with a smile. His fangs were long and white. "How do you feel?" Miroku was too tired to say anything. His lips throbbed with each breath he pulled into his tight chest. "Feel like joining us?"

Miroku managed to growl. "Unlock the door."

The vampire pouted. His hand slid down to touch Miroku's arm. Miroku's body shuddered at the way that his touch made the heat go away. "Oh, that's not very nice. The avatar so wanted to see you. He wanted to make this a pleasant experience."

"Give me back Naga and let me leave." His hand reached for the gun tucked into the back of his pants. The vampire was too quick. He snatched Miroku's hand and held it so tightly that Miroku thought his arm was going to break.

The man's face was cruel, but full of pleasure. He was enjoying watching the way Miroku's dark hair clung to his head with perspiration, or the way his lips were parted as he tried to catch his shaking breath. "Bringing a gun into a place of worship?" He clucked his tongue and snatched Miroku's gun from him. "I told you, Miroku. The boss wants to see you. I don't think you realize that you don't really have a choice. No one disobeys Kikyou. Now, are you going to be a good little boy and walk under your own power, or am I going to have to knock you out and carry you?"

Miroku chose to walk.

* * *

A series of tunnels led to a cavern system beneath the church. Miroku followed the vampire, feeling as if he were in a daze. He was disconnected from his emotions. He had to disconnect himself from them. If he hadn't he'd be lost in the fear and the self-hatred bubbling up within himself. His mind was paralyzed with that fear, so his body had been set on auto-pilot. Miroku didn't bother trying to memorize the route they took. 

He knew that this was going to be a one-way trip.

The first sign that they were drawing close to the end of their journey was the return of that overwhelming psychic energy. The clouds of it were closing around him, trying to entice him. The air tasted humid. After the psychic scent he began picking up on the fear: it came from everything. He could feel it coming from the vampire he followed, from Kikyou's demon followers, to humans. Finally, just before they walked through a door leading to their base of operations, he heard the screaming.

"No! No! I don't want it! Leave me alone! No! Get your goddamn, filthy hands off of me!"

It took Miroku a moment to place it. The voice was familiar, but the frantic panic in it made it hard to place. Kagome. They turned the corner and the bright lights from their base blinded him. As his eyes cleared, he could see her. Kagome's blue eyes were wide with fear. Two strong men held her by her arms. She struggled and screamed, trying to get away. Her body was covered with scratch marks. They had all been made by human hands.

The avatar from the altar stood in front of her. He was still nude. He reached down and took her chin in his hands. He kissed her, cutting off her screams. She fought to get away, but his grip was tight. Miroku watched, half with amazement and half with horror, as they fight flooded out of Kagome's body. It sagged in the arms of the men holding her. Her back then straightened and she leaned into the kiss. The guards released her hands and she wrapped them around the named man. He moaned in pleasure. When she released him, she showed no signs of fatigue, but he was panting. His lips trembled with longing as he watched Kagome's tongue lick his taste from her lips. The fear and panic were gone from her body. She held herself like a queen, her blue eyes cold and glassy.

"Thank you for lending me your body, Marquis."

The blonde man smiled deliriously. "Anything you wish, my master."

She touched his cheek, looking as sweet as a nun offering a blessing. "You are still not relieved. Go to the dungeons. Take someone who peaks your fancy. You can have them any way you wish. I'm afraid I don't have time to relieve you myself. I know that they will be better suited to your tastes, anyway. Just return them by morning."

The man smiled eagerly. "Thank you, Master."

Her voice held a note of warning as she called his name. "Marquis. Leave the hell-cat alone. She's not to be harmed."

"Yes, Master."

Kikyou watched him leave. She pushed her hair away from her face, adeptly removing knots in her hair. Only when she was happy with her appearance did she turn to Miroku. She eyed him. "Take him to my bedroom, love. I'll freshen up and then visit him. And, Trowa, darling? Be gentle with him. No snacking."

The man nodded in understanding. He pushed Miroku down the hallway and into a bedroom. Miroku tried to bolt from the room as soon as the door was shut. Two burly shape shifters grabbed him and threw him back inside. He landed hard against the side of the four-poster bed. Miroku wished he had his gun. Then he could have shot himself. If Miroku killed himself, then Shabranigdo could not use him. He began to pace in the bedroom, now and again taking note of the decorations: red silk sheets, dried flowers, antique mirrors, but nothing that could really be used as a weapon.

He heard the knob in the door turn. He grabbed whatever was closest and closest and got ready to use it as a weapon. It was a small chest from the make-up stand. He stopped when he saw his visitor's body language.

It was, of course, Kikyou. She wasn't about to attack him. She wasn't armed with a weapon. She wasn't even in an aggressive stance. Instead, she looked disappointed in him.

"Put the jewelry box down, Miroku. I'm going to kill you. I asked for you to be brought here so that I could speak with you in privacy." She ran a hand up her arm, rubbing the scratches. She nudged the door shut behind with her foot. Her expression winced. "Kagome does not like the things I do to her body. When I leave it, she tries to cleanse the body, scratching away the sins of the flesh. It always pains me to enter it again." Kikyou sank down into a chair and stared at him.

"I feel sorry for you," he spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kikyou stared at him. Her eyes were glassy. "I don't expect you to understand. What reason could you have to hate your body?"

Miroku pursed his lips. Straightening, he lifted his shirt. He knew all-too well the scars that stretched over the taught skin of his abdominals. Kikyou smirked and lifted her wrist. There was a nasty scar that stretched from end to end.

"I know scars too. I'm just lucky the little witch was too scared to slit her own throat. I didn't mean scars, Miroku. I meant you _body_. I'm a demon. Everyday, I can feel this body dying. It's human and I loathe it. You are too. Surely you must feel like sometimes you're not strong enough or fast enough?"

His eyes narrowed. Kikyou smiled softly. She could almost feel the air decreasing in temperature. Miroku's voice came out in a growl. "No."

She clucked her tongue. "No? Not even when it's because of your weakness that Sango left you?" She purred in pleasure when she saw his surprise. "Yes. I've seen it coming for awhile now. Human and demons rarely seem to work out well. Why, who knows? Maybe Sango's parents would have failed just as you did if they hadn't died when she was little."

Miroku's eyes were wide. Miroku slowly slid down into whatever was nearest—the bed. He was feeling a little dizzy. "How do you know about that?"

She smiled. "I was in Sango's mind. I know how she thinks. How know her whole past, as of what it was two years ago. I can tell you what she thought of when she first saw you. She thought you looked like a pirate." Kikyou tilted her head to see him. Her hair fanned out behind her like a spreading wing. "I can see it, a little bit. You look better awake then unconscious, by the way."

He snorted. "Thanks."

Kikyou leaned back in her chair. "I can help you get her back, you know. She wants a demon. I can make you into a demon."

"I don't want to be a demon."

"Do you know what it's like?" He shook his head. "Then why are you acting like it's such a bad thing? I think you'd like it. Your empathy would be three, maybe even four or fives times as strong as it is now. You'd be stronger, faster… even your looks would change. You're such a handsome man now, if I made you into a demon, no woman would be able to resist your charisma."

"And I'd be connected to _you_. I'd become a monster. I'd become what the IBSP considers a criminal. I'd become the very thing I've been trained to hunt."

She smiled slyly. "Yes, but you'd have _Sango_."

Kiykou blushed with pleasure at the way that Miroku was so intently staring at her. She wished that it was done with desire and not with hatred. No wonder Sango had been attracted to this man. He kept his power hidden, but when it showed, it was as decapitating as a sword swipe.

"She'd kill me on sight." He leaned back on the bed. His hand brushed his cell phone in his pocket. He showed no sign that it was there, but inside he felt a glimmer of hope. He cold call for help. He glanced at his arm. The tracer was still in his body. They could track him if he called for help."

Kikyou's eyes demurely followed his gaze. "She might also be so attracted to you that she'd fuck you on sight." Kikyou could see he didn't believe her. "I know why Sango is attracted to you. She might be attracted to you physically because of your looks, but Sango is turned on by power, by aggressiveness, because it gives her leave to be aggressive as well. Never forget that when you're rutting with Sango, you're rutting with a wild animal who is rational and enjoys games. She is turned on by power because her instincts tell her that a strong man, a man who could control her, will give her good genes so that her children will be strong. That's what drives Sango: animal instinct."

"I don't care!" he snapped, yelling. "I'm not going to let you turn me into a monster!"

"Monster?" Kikyou laughed, rising from her chair. "Do I look like a monster, Miroku?" He shook his head. "What do I look like?"

"Like… like royalty."

She smiled at him. It was dazzling. "I _am_ like royalty, Miroku. I am a god, and I am in a mortal body." She was close enough to touch him. A heady, tantalizing scent wrapped around him. He could feel an ancient, powerful psyche wrapped around his mind. He was disturbed at the maleness of it. It was coming from Kikyou, but that psyche was male. "My mortality is connected to you. If you die, I will be locked into this body as it grows old. I _refuse_ to grow old. Therefore, empath, it is in my best interests that I make sure no harm befalls you."

That psyche slammed shut when her fingers touched his cheek. Miroku could not move. He could think, but the commands he told his body were not getting there. Kikyou smiled down at him and leaned down, kissing his lips lightly.

"If you will not willingly change, then I will force the change upon you." She batter her eyes. Her breath was sweet. "You can still speak, Miroku. I enjoy it when people scream when I kill them. Care to beg, Miroku? Care to make little threats?"

"If you turn me, I'll kill myself afterwards."

She kissed him again. This time it was deeper, and filled with passion. He could not breath as her tongue explored his mouth. When she drew back, she was straddling his waist, her arms looped around his neck so she could lean on him and play with his hair. "Do you know what scares you, Miroku? I know what scares you. If you even so much as _think_ about killing yourself, Miroku, I will make your worst fears come true. I know where to hit you where it hurts."

She brought her knee down between his legs. Miroku groaned at the pain, but it seemed miniscule compared to her threat. She leaned closer and whispered it in his ear, letting her lips play with his ear. "Your foster-mother is pregnant. It sure would be a shame if something were to happen to her child. Say… if it were misplaced in the hospital. I have several people here who have a thing for children. Of course, a child of those two lines… they would have powerful magic. It would be _very_ easy to manipulate them into using those skills for my own purposes. All you have to do is break them when they're young enough."

The images she was planting in his mind made it perfectly clear how to break a child, regardless of their gender. Miroku felt tears running down his cheeks at the images.

"You father told you to protect your family… isn't that what you were supposed to do, Miroku? Your sacrifice will save them."

Sacrifice. The word resonated inside of him. He finally knew what Hitomi had meant. He was the sacrifice. He could get into Kikyou's stronghold... by being the sacrifice. He had to give up his humanity. His sacrifice was not in death, but by allowing this to happen.

She gripped his chin and lifted his face up to hers. Her face was flushed with excitement. She saw the acquiescence on his face. Kikyou pushed him back down on the bed with one hand. "Good boy. You look so much like your predecessor… you will be one of my favorite toys. You will be so strong and beautiful…"

Kikyou leaned down to kiss him again. He wanted to gag at the sensation. It burned. His body shuddered. Kikyou was pleased. She pushed his head to the side and kissed his neck. Miroku bit his lip to keep from making even the smallest sound of fear. He hadn't felt this helpless in two years. He had forgotten what it felt like to play the martyr.

"This is going to sting."

It was an unwilling consent. It burned. Miroku had dealt with a lot of pain without screaming. This was worse than all of it put together. He could feel his blood being drawn from his body. He could feel her hands on his skin. He could sense her arousal at the taste of his blood, at the way his body was dying. He could feel his heart slowly stop beating. It wasn't enough to bite his neck. It wasn't enough to have him paralyzed as others fed on him and she stood by and watched.

It was never enough humiliation.

In the end, Miroku screamed, and it was then she was able to place her wrist to his mouth and force her blood down his throat, force him to drink it, playing those twisted memories in his mind, reminding him why he was letting her do this to him.

* * *

To be continued... 


	17. The Terror

AN: You guys rock socks! Happy All Hallow, everybody, and enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter Sixteen: The Terror

Marching down the hallway, Kikyou felt better than she ever had before. Miroku had been recuperating for two days. He still hadn't woken up yet. That was a good sign. The longer it took a person to go from human to demon, the stronger they were generally going to be. She lifted her lips to feel the smile spreading over her face. Kikyou even felt like letting out an honest-to-God _laugh_. Miroku was safely tucked inside her pocket, a nice little pet to play with.

And the perfect bait to attract Tora Sango.

She stretched, already imagining herself back in that delicious body. She was tired of Kagome's body. But, oh, _Sango_'s body… She knew that mind intimately. She knew exactly how to press Sango's buttons. She didn't want to break Sango, no. Not for a good many, many years. Kikyou pushed open the doors to the computer room.

The man behind the computers turned to glance at her. She saw them gulp when they saw how happy she was. "Everything is coming up just perfectly," she purred, leaning over the lead technician. "Do we have our coordinates planned out yet?"

"Yes… yes, Master!"

She gave him a small kiss on his cheek. Her lashes brushed his cheek as she batted them. "Good. Call Dolph for me. Tell him to bring me our little angel. It's time that we sent the Independent Bureau of Studies for the Paranormal our little message." She paused and arched an eyebrow. Her gaze bored into his head. "You're absolutely certain that Sesshoumaru, Rukia, and Ichigo are in that building?"

The man nodded nervously. "We've been monitoring their entrances and exits through Xellos' tap on their computer system. They're all in that building right now."

"But Tora Sango is at home?" The man nodded again. "Yes. Yes, things are coming up _perfectly_." The smallest of giggles escaped her smiling mouth. "My powers are now back up to full strength. If they thought I was giving them a run for their money before, let's see how they like me now."

* * *

"Pass me that liver." 

Ichigo glanced over his shoulder at the shelf. A bottled liver sat there, waiting to for a closer examination. The red-haired demon then glanced back at his petite mate, perched on a stool and scribbling furiously away at the autopsy notes. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You know, other married couples actually engage in conversation rather than just telling someone to pass them a liver."

Rukia glanced up from her work. Her gaze was just as stubborn as his. "_Please_ pass me that liver."

Her husband snorted. "Yeah, like _that_ was what I meant." He begrudgingly handed her the liver from the shelving and leaned over her. Ichigo was bored. They had seen a lot more bodies than usual coming through their morgue, and Ichigo was beginning to think that the only human/demon interaction he'd get was with the corpses. Needless to say, the conversation with corpses was more than just a little dead. Ichigo needed a reminder of the good things in life. "I'm bored."

"There's another body on the slab you can wash for me and collect foren…" She stopped when he picked her up, turned her to face him, and set her back down on her stool. Her face went bright red. She'd nearly forgotten how strong he was. Rukia did her best to glare at him. "Pardon me. You may not feel like doing any work, but I have a liver to process."

His brown eyes met hers as he lowered his face to her level. "Rukia, I'm bored. I'm sick and tired of looking at dead bodies. Remind that there's something good in this life…" He paused. His breath shuddered. Ichigo had been trapped in the cavernous underground of the IBSP for hundreds of years. He had forgotten what sunlight had felt like on his skin years and years ago. "_Please_."

It was the please that got to her. Rukia smiled at him, her delicate hands brushing his cheek. "Ichigo… you should have told me that you felt this way sooner. I would have gone and gotten flowers… we could have spread them around the room…"

"I don't need flowers." His arms encircled her waist, lifting her to close the space between them. Just as he was about to kiss her, the door to the morgue burst open.

"Hey… _whoa_." Kisuke Urahara went bright red. He laughed nervously and pulled a fan from somewhere, using it to fan his blushing face and hide. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to drop this guy off." He lifted his pet cat by the scruff of the cat's neck. The cat didn't seem to mind being carried like that at all. In fact, he seemed pretty indifferent.

Ichigo set his wife down. His usually bitter expression was curious. "You're giving us your cat?"

He nodded and handed the cat to Rukia. Flustered, she managed to get out: "But… but _Sango_ gave you this cat!"

"I know," he tenderly reminisced. He brushed the cat's head, and the car purred with contentment. Urahara's face was sad. "Sango… Sango's been in a bad shape ever since Miroku disappeared two nights ago. Sesshoumaru has ordered me to go back home and help them try to contain Shabranigdo's followers there. He believes that it's silly for all four of us who fought Shabranigdo before to all be here together. Killing him won't be enough. It never is. We have to keep his cults from rising up."

Rukia nodded understandingly. "We have to keep the humans and the demons from being killed needlessly. He has a point. But you can still take Yoruichi with you."

"No. Leave him here. He's an old cat. I don't know how he would deal with the trip. Besides," he straightened, giving Ichigo a smile. "I think you guys need a pet more than I do."

Rukia held the cat class. He was still purring. "When will you be leaving, Urahara?"

The man shrugged. "I don't know yet. I talked with Sesshoumaru. We're going to wait until Miroku turns up. I don't want to leave Sango when she's like this. I know that leaving her will hurt her. We _are_ friends, after all…" His voice trailed off. He was friends with Sango. That was why it had hurt him so much when she had used their friendship as a shield against confronting Miroku. It had hurt him, and it had made him mad, even if he hadn't shown it. "This way, when I'm gone, she'll at least have Miroku."

Ichigo pursed his lips, thinking about the young tiger's relationship. "I don't know. I mean, are you sure that Sango's going to want to rely on Miroku as a friendly shoulder? The gossip around the office is that they haven't been doing too well as of late."

"It won't be easy for Sango. She's a demon, and he's human. Those relationships are never easy. Regardless, she'll continue to rely on him because her heart tells her to do so. It's her logic that's getting in the way. Everything else about her loves Miroku…" He sighed. "At least when I'm gone, she'll have him to rely on. And that's the way things should be."

Rukia, as much as it pained her to admit, was in agreement. She had watched both young children grow into adults, and she had to admit that their opposites were complimentary. Miroku possessed the ability to calm Sango down and relax, while Sango's safety and well being was about the only thing that could ever get Miroku's feathers ruffled. Unfortunately, she had to admit that Miroku had definitely suffered a bit of a personality change over the last few years. That was hardly illogical, seeing as how he _had_ been nearly dissected alive by a demon-worshipping cult… but Rukia suspected that more remained of the flirtatious, romantic, and lecherous young man she had come to admire when he was alone with Sango.

Maybe, Rukia reminisced, that change she had seen in Miroku was more of a sudden understanding of _propriety_ than an actual personality change.

"Hey, Rukia?"

She glanced up at her husband. "What is it?"

"There's something…."

* * *

Sesshoumaru liked to think that he was not the worrying type. However, two years with Rin living under his paternal wing, and Sesshoumaru was quickly coming to realize that he was not as cold hearted as he had always pretended to be. He was in his office in the IBSP building, actually away from behind his desk. He sat on his couch, his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him. He hadn't moved since the night before. 

He had been there doing some late night work. Rin was there too. She had been on edge for the past few hours, shaking and pale. Once or twice she'd run to the bathroom to vomit. Both of them had chalked it up to food poisoning or influenza. It was, Sesshoumaru had decided, completely understandable that she didn't want to be left at home on her own in her condition.

Armed with a pillow, a teddy bear, and a blanket, Rin had curled up on his couch to remain near him while she wasn't feeling well. Then, from out of nowhere, Rin screamed.

And she kept screaming.

Sesshoumaru, nearly jumping out of his own skin as a gut-wrenching scream of pain and fear blasted away the peaceful, recuperative silence, ran to her. His hands gripped her shoulder as he tried to wake up, only to realize that she wasn't asleep. She had never been asleep. Her eyes were wide open, but there was no one home.

When his hands touched her, she began punching and kicking him, trying to get him to let go of her. She just kept fighting, screaming. Sesshoumaru did not know what to do.

Finally, her screams stopped. She didn't sleep. She just kept staring ahead. Sesshoumaru knew what to do then. He grabbed a book from his book case and settled down on the couch. Rin clutched his waist and lay her head on his lap, tucking the blanket around herself. They had stayed like that all night and all morning. Rin hadn't slept, hadn't talked about it… she hadn't even signed anything to him, even though he had tried to ask what had happened.

He never wanted to see her scream like that again.

Gods above, he never wanted her to scream like that again!

He had tried to reason it out, but for being her caretaker for two years, Sesshoumaru still did not know much about Rin. He had never known that she'd taught herself sign language, and Urahara had reported that she had a talent for hiding herself… though that was hardly surprising. Two years ago, she had masked her scent from demons. She might not be able to control it, but Rin's subconscious knew how to hide when she was in danger.

The only thing he could think was that somehow she had channeled what someone _else_ had been going through…

The question then was who? And why? And what had been done to them that would make _Rin_ break her vow of silence?

As he thought, he absentmindedly began letting his fingers stroke her shoulder-length hair. Rin snuggled closer to him, and he struggled to repress a smile. Rin was, at the very least, safe and sound. That was what mattered to him.

He leaned back, his book having been finished hours ago, and stared at the window. There wasn't much to see on the top floor of the building. Just clouds, sky, and the occasional bird or plane. He kept letting his fingers lazily stroke her hair, wishing her into sleep and some rest.

It would not happen.

His eyes were drifting closed, his dark lashes in such contrast to his eyes and skin it seemed as through the brilliant gold hue cast light on his face. They were the picture of composure and solidarity—until Sesshoumaru suddenly lurched forward. Something was coming straight at the building. It was coming _straight _at them… until it suddenly veered to strike the floors beneath them. His brain could scarcely believe what his eyes were telling him…

That had been a _missile_.

A god-damn, fucking _missile_.

His hands tightened around Rin. She hadn't seemed to see it, but her body was frozen in surprise. He was glad—it would have been bad if she'd tried to fight him.

Sesshoumaru had never experienced real fear or panic before. This was the first time. As he clutched Rin to his chest, preparing himself for the violent shudders of the building collapsing beneath them, he felt the taste of fear in his mouth. It tasted horrible. He wanted to gag on the pathetic human emotion that clogged his mouth…

Except that when the ground fell out from beneath them, a sonic boom going off in his ears, he was glad for the fear, because it kept the scream of disorientation and weightlessness from breaching the undulating air.

* * *

Inuyasha's ears perked up. His head followed. His ears twitched. "Yo!" he called over to the cell next to him. "Rabbit-boy… you hear that rumbling…" 

There was a pause. The kid wasn't writing off the question to insanity. He was actually listening. Inuyasha could almost imagine the kid giving a shrug. Of course the kid couldn't hear anything. He was just a kid, and human to boot…

"Sorry, Inuyasha-san. I don't hear anything. I think that maybe Alice-chan does, though. She's twitchy. Alice is never twitchy…"

Inuyasha rolled his eyes skyward, inwardly groaning. The kid had the ears of a dog demon at his disposal and he was relying on a goddamn _bunny_ to tell him if something was wrong… Inuyasha's gold eyes widened when he saw that there were cracks in the ceiling. He glanced around quickly. The walls too. The rumbling he heard was getting louder… and closer… Inuyasha felt dust and drywall land on his face.

He opened his mouth to shout a warning. He never got the time. There was a loud cracking sound as the rock sky above him opened up.

* * *

"There's something coming…" Rukia hissed. Her eyes scanned the ceiling. Both men, not one to dismiss her intuition lightly, both followed her gaze. Rukia's eyes narrowed, but she lost the look when the ground suddenly rocked under them, like a capsizing boat. Rukia, the smallest, went tumbling into her husband, who was barely able to keep his balance. Urahara was leaning on the walls for support, using it to steady himself as the floor lurched in the other direction. 

"What is this!" Ichigo yelled. He wanted to cover his ears from a sound of rumbling that was quickly getting louder, but he dare not take his hands from Rukia's slim shoulders.

"I don't know!" Urahara answered, looking just as sick, worried, and perplexed as the other two.

Rukia was still staring at the ceiling when she saw the structure above her beginning to crack. Spider webs of pressure cracks began spiraling towards the center of the room from the walls. Urahara jumped when one traveled down the wall to where he was resting his weight. She sucked in air. "Cave-in!"

Strong arms wrapped tighter around her. Ichigo. She felt him yelling, his voice making her ears itch from the sound of his voice, but it was lost as the ceiling came tumbling down and closed them in darkness.

* * *

Miroku was waking up. 

He knew that he had been waking up for some time, but he didn't actually want to awaken. He was terrified of opening his eyes and finding himself in an alien, monstrous body. All morning he had felt changing patterns of air pressure dance across his skin; he could hear feet going up and down the aisle, and snippets of conversation. He was hungry, and it was almost painful, it was that strong.

Someone pulled the sheets away from his body. Cold air assaulted his bare skin, like small needles stabbing into him. He could hear the person breathing. He could hear their heart beating. He could smell their scent, and the air around them had a taste. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to burn the feeling away with Listerine.

It was of little surprise when he found that it was Kikyou standing over him. He couldn't imagine anyone else leaving a taste like that in his mouth. What were surprising were the faint bands of colour that danced in the air around her. He could see her aura. He hadn't been able to see auras since…

Since his powers had been increased.

He _had_ become a stronger psychic, and he was disgusted that Kikyou had been right. He didn't want the ability to see auras or taste feelings with the tip of his tongue if it meant that he was a demon! Miroku scrambled away from her, his body shaking. He fell off the bed and landed with a hard thump. His heart beat was echoing in his ears, irregular and chaotic, but he was glad because he still had one. He wasn't dead. He wasn't a vampire. He wasn't some kind of undead freak.

Kikyou smiled and laughed lightly. The color of the air around her swirled warmer for a moment and then settled down into a color and a pattern that Miroku, _somehow_, recognized as fondness. "Oh, Miroku… still so shy. Come on and get up. You're hungry, and we have to feed you. Of course, first we have to know what it is that you eat. How do you feel?"

"Hungry," he carefully admitted, staring up at her from the floor on the other side of the bed. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he started to unwrap himself free. Kikyou's threat of being a good little boy still hung in the air. He didn't want her to have to remind him—_God, please_ don't let her remind him!

"Hungry for what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just hungry."

The demon lord pursed her lips. Miroku was not being helpful. He was, however, telling the truth. Kikyou could tell when one of her creatures was lying to her. She arched an eyebrow and went to his side of the bed, helping him up. She picked up some clothes laying on the dresser and passed them to him. "Suichiro's. We can send someone today to sneak into your old apartment and get some clothes of your own. You have to understand, Miroku, that you can't go home."

He detested the note of glee in her voice at being trapped in her headquarters. He knew he could never go home. He was an outlaw now. He was one of her demons. Urahara had told him that all of them fed off of humans in some way. That made him an outlaw. He'd be arrested on sight if he went home.

Besides, he didn't want his family to see him like this.

Miroku accepted the clothes and stood up. Kikyou didn't move from the room. A low growling filled the room. It took him a moment to realize that it was coming from him. He itched to lick his lips, to see if he had fangs like Sango did when she let out an animalistic growl, but he was too scared to. He didn't want to have fangs. "Aren't you going to give me some privacy to change?"

"Why?" she laughed and did a sprightly little twirl. It was just for show. He could taste her anticipation. Miroku's heart beat faster, echoing hers. "I've already seen you naked before."

"I don't care. I'd like some privacy." It seemed hard to hang on to his anticipation. Kikyou's feigned glee and innocence—and it _was_ feigned—was making him want to smile at her in kind. He shuddered when he realized that his body was mimicking what it saw. He saw Kikyou's fondness, her joy and her smile, and it wanted to respond with the same emotion.

He immediately saw the danger in it. What happened when Kikyou stopped pretending and felt something for real? What happened when Kikyou would become aroused by one of her followers? What happened if Kikyou became mad? What if she became hungry for human blood? What if... god! What if he found himself back in that psychic orgy, assaulted by the blood lust of dozens of people?

Miroku pounced on the feelings, stiffling them as much as he could. His wide eyes watched the colors around Kikyou swirl in enchanting ripples. His heart still pounded in his chest, but under her prying gaze Miroku could take little joy in the fact that he was still warm to the touch, and capable of responding to her whims. Accepting that Kikyou simply would not leave, he stood and began dressing. He didn't show the slightest sign of caring for the fact that he was stark naked as he slid into a pair of jeans.

"Where's Naga?" he asked, trying to keep the topic of conversation away from Kikyou, his body, or what had happened the night before.

The giggle she gave as a childish response grated his nerves. It was completely fake and ridiculously out of character. Miroku knew he was being toyed with and he hated it. He hated her acting and her coquettish smile and laugh. He hated that she could pull it off, in Kagome's body, looking sweet and innocent when she was really a cruel, twisted monster he would gladly kill with his bare hands.

Kikyou smiled and tilted her head. Her dark brown hair spilled over her shoulder to highlight the curve of her breasts. "She's dead."

He stopped, his shirt half-way on. Inside there was a cold, brutal acceptance of what she said. Ever since Suichiro had singled her out and she had been led to the altar he knew that she was dead meat. Yet there had always been hope; hope that somehow, after she had disappeared, that she had survived. Apparently that hope had been misplaced. Kikyou's aura was hiding nothing. She was telling the truth. His friend was dead.

"How did it happen?" he asked, pulling his shirt on the rest of the way.

Kikyou pouted a little when his chest slid from view. She enjoyed Miroku's body. It was not as muscular as Suichiro's was, but it was pleasant on the eyes, sturdy, and somehow more... human. Her eyes danced as she reclined on the bed, brushing her hair. Her smile grew when she noticed that he was watching her stroke her hair, causing his gaze to linger now and then on her chest.

"You know that me and my kind feed on humans, don't you?" She laughed when he gave her a patronized expression. "Of course you do. I fed off of her while I was... entertaining the audience. I drained her soul. I didn't want to be greedy, though. I left a little bit in there for the others. After the... religious experience, I brought her down here, under the stage. My vampires were hungry, and they had waited so patiently for Naga to be selected. They had been eyeing her for quite some time, you know. There was enough of Naga left in her body for her screams to be real when they fed on her."

She glanced down. Miroku's hands were clenched until his knuckles were white. Kikyou smiled. "You hate me, don't you?"

"Yes." There was no hint of fear or hesitancy in his answer.

Kikyou reached out and patted his cheek. Miroku's ire was delicious to watch as he glared at her. "That's good. I like a challenge." Miroku pushed her hand away—Kikyou felt her heart skip a beat. Most others she'd had as pets would have slapped her hand away. Miroku was still gentle as ever. She found it made the playing field more interesting. Kikyou slipped off the bed. "Let's go find you some breakfast. Then, Miroku, darling, we have a mission."

* * *

To be continued! 


	18. The Spy

Chapter Seventeen: The Spy

Kikyou led Miroku through the underground cavern-system that served as their base of headquarters. He occupied his mind with wondering about inane things: how they lit it, how they financed it, how they made the caves… he thought about anything he could to keep from thinking about where they were going.

He smelled something delicious. His stomach growled. He was famished. When had he last eaten? He couldn't recall. Days ago, at least. Miroku remembered the bar, the booze, and Naga, but he couldn't recall the food. Had he eaten anything at the bar? If he had, it couldn't have been very filling… The thought of food made his stomach lurch.

Kikyou noticed he'd stopped at an intersection. She stared at him a second, watching him rub his stomach. When she saw where he was looking—at a closed steel door—she smiled. Leaning against the rock wall, she let her stance become provocative, and she rejoiced at the way Kagome wailed inside her head.

"You know," she purred, "you're quite lucky. You still seem to have the ability to eat human food. Most people vomit up whatever is in their stomach when they wake up. But you just kept going. Still, it's not human food you find appetizing, Miroku."

His eyes were harsh. Kikyou smiled when she saw his eyes were no longer grey, but violet. She was sure, however, that they had been blue a moment ago. Miroku was a fine creature, one she was proud of. She'd made nothing like him before.

"How do you know I don't want human food?" he snapped.

"You smell something good, don't you?" She tilted her head, letting her hair swirl like a cape around her back. Miroku slowly nodded. "That's not the kitchen you're looking at Miroku."

Sauntering over to him, letting her hips sway provocative, Kikyou pushed open the steel door. She gestured over her shoulder to the dimly lit hallway. "Go ahead. Take a peek. Tell me which one you like the best."

Miroku gulped. He didn't like the way that Kikyou was talking about. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn't. It just… it smelled so _good_. He took a first tenacious step. The first step turned into a second. He could hear with frightening detail as Kikyou stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. It cut off further light from the room, turning it into pale shades of grey, blue, and white.

As he stepped forward, the enticing smell beckoning him forward, he realized what it was. It was a jail. The dimly lit hallway contained small cells, with people inside. Many of them spotted him and let out a squeak, shuddering and retreating into the shadows of their cells in an attempt to hide from them.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He could see them, even in the shadows. Not their bodies, but their auras. He could make out forest green, and cerulean, and silver, and a myriad of other colors. He could even smell them. He could smell their fear. It had a tangy kind of taste, and was a little refreshing. Like lemon-ginger: spicy, but a little sour too, but not a bad sour. He licked his lips, enjoying the taste of it on his tongue.

_Hitomi_ _told me that if my powers grew enough, I'd be able to taste feelings too, rather than just having a 'feeling' for them…_ He kept walking down the hallway. The cells were small and cramped. He was a little scared that so many of them seemed to be children. He prayed the IBSP knew where he was so that he could get the kids out of there…

He stopped at the middle cell. The aroma he'd picked up from the other side of the steel door was emanating from this cell. Miroku stared at the familiar face inside, and she stared right back.

"M… Miroku-sama?" Slowly, Merle rose. Her tail moved slightly in a friendly, inquisitive greeting. She moved closer to the bars, brushing off her torn and bloody dress. She stopped abruptly, mentally chastising herself. "So, they caught you too?" Her blue eyes landed on Kikyou back in the distance and she hissed in that direction.

Suddenly the aroma became more appealing. Miroku watched as the frightened, worrying colors that bathed Merle in a unique light flared gold: beautiful, brilliant, heart-stopping gold. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't find words to describe the flavor in his mouth as he breathed it in. It was different than the human tastes, for one. It was stronger and more potent. It made his whole body shudder from the intensity. His lips shook as he tried to breath.

Kikyou watched it all with a cool detachment.

Anger. It was hot and burning and liquid. It ran down Miroku's throat as he breathed it in. It struck his stomach like a coal, making his stomach growl with pleasure. Miroku could feel himself drinking in the heady scent and he could feel the pleasure running through his body. He could feel himself salivating. Something wet and cool touched his bottom lip. He lifted the back of his hand to wipe it away… and yelped when something cut the back of his hand.

He pulled it away to see two long scratches running along the back of his hand in parallel lines. Miroku stared at it, and he felt the ground drop away from beneath his feet. He swallowed and nearly choked. Slowly, with increasing fear, he brought his fingers to his lips. They were sensitive to the touch, and the way he pressed down on them was almost painful; but it was a good pain, making shocks of pleasure run through his body. His teeth had more feeling, but his sensitive fingers burned with the sensation of gliding down two curved, elongated canines. His chest heaved with panic.

Vampire.

Good GOD, she'd turned him into a vampire.

Merle was moving closer to the door of her cell, confused. "Miroku-sama? Are you okay?" She reached her arm through the bars of her cage. "Miroku-sama?"

"Don't touch me!" He slapped the hand away so hard that it actually hurt the back of his hand. It hurt Merle more. She pulled it back, cradling it to her body. Miroku backed up far away from the cage door, until his back struck the rock wall. He slid down, his eyes unable to pull away from Merle's body. He could feel his body want to start to cry, but there weren't any tears. He sobbed without tears.

"Miroku-sama… what did she do to you?" Merle's voice shook with worry.

Kikyou answered. She stepped forward, brushing Miroku's hair with pleasant strokes, the way a master proudly pets a dog. "He's a vampire… a very well-formed vampire… you can eat human food, you can feed on blood, but you can also feed on psychic energy. You are unique, Miroku, the way all of my originals are unique."

"Unique?"

"Yes. No two of my gifts are bestowed in the same way. They all depend on the person who receives them. It means that there are some very different demons out in the world. Some are succubi, some are vampires, some age, and some don't. Some can procreate, and some can't." Kikyou smiled. "The only thing I knew for certain was that I was going to make you a vampire. That's why we traded blood. I didn't know what your gifts would be until after you woke up."

Miroku's violet eyes nodded. "You knew that I would be a vampire? Why!" He rushed her, rising in the same action, shoving her harshly into the wall. Kikyou didn't show the slightest sign of fear from being so close to Miroku. He snarled, his teeth making his words slur. He could feel his blood crashing through his body, filling him with a strength he knew he shouldn't naturally have. "Why did you turn me into this? Why not just kill me! Why _this_? Why a vampire?"

"Because," she smirked smugly. As she spoke, it was replaced by apathy. "I know what makes you afraid. Vampires make you afraid. You've seen what they do to human bodies. I've made you afraid of yourself. I've taken away what you wanted most. I've taken away your humanity."

Her words struck him like a bullet: straight in his heart. He dropped her, backing away from her and shivering. "You couldn't… no one could take that away…"

"I can." Her face was serious and cold. "And I did. No more feelings, just what you echo from others around you. No more heart beat, Miroku, just your body mimicking the people around you. No more love. No more hate. No more dreams. No more nightmares. No more children," she laughed harshly. "And no more soul."

"That's not possible!"

Kikyou bent to face him as he hunched over, clutching his stomach. He was crying—but there still weren't any tears. There would never be anymore tears. "I heard that once before, you know. When I changed your predecessor, he reacted the exact same way. You can still have sex, Miroku, but your seed is completely infertile now. I've given you power. I've given you strength and stamina to rival your partners Ranma and Sango. I've given you immortality."

"I didn't want any of that…" he sobbed. Merle watched it all in silence.

"You wanted Sango. Sango wants a demon. Sango wants strength and stamina. Now she can have exactly what she wants." Kikyou straightened and brushed her hair straight, letting her black locks flow behind her again. She glanced at the wide, frightened eyes peering out from the shadows and then at Miroku as he huddled against a wall. "I'll leave you here to feed for ten minutes. I'll be back then with a glass of blood. I'll start you off on animal blood. Maybe by then you'll have come to your senses. We still have a little trip to take."

The steel door banged when she slammed it shut. Miroku, for a moment, debated running for it, but then the steel door clicked. He was locked in. A hand touched his shoulder, small but with a tight grip. He glanced to see Merle huddled beside him, still separated by the silver-coated bars of her cage. Her blue eyes were filed with pity. In his chest, Miroku could feel his heart start to beat again, matching Merle's perfectly.

"She's wrong, you know."

"About what?"

Merle's lips drew into an encouraging smile. "You still have your humanity. You're right. Nothing can take that from you. No one who was just a mirror of others could have that expression on their face…"

He couldn't bring himself to smile back—not yet. "You're right… When I think of Sango, I still feel the same way about her. And more than ever now, I hate Kikyou." His face slipped again and he looked ready to cry. Merle patted his dry cheeks, trying to be comforting. "And I _am_ scared, Merle. I'm scared of myself. I don't want to drink blood. I don't want to prey on people."

Merle passed her other arm through the bars and hugged Miroku tightly. Miroku hugged her back, but the way his heart echoed hers mocked him. Humanity intact or not, he was still dead.

* * *

Inuyasha took one look at the bars of his cell and cursed. They were still up, and the security alarms were still active. His room had sustained little damage, but he'd still been floored by the sheer intensity of the rest of the building caving down. They were now using emergency back up power, making the room dim. _Smart IBSP_, he snarled, _putting the doors of the cell on the emergency system so people couldn't break out during power failures_… 

He couldn't hear anything from the cell next to his. "Hey, kid?" he called out. Inuyasha wracked his mind for the kid's name. "Edward? You okay?"

Something heavy shifted in the cell next to him. Edward grunted with the effort of moving. His answer was out of breath and slightly muffled. "I'm okay. So's Alice."

Inuyasha snorted.

In the cell next to him, Edward was on his hands and his knees. His cell had not been as lucky as Inuyasha's. The ceiling had caved in. When he saw it, Edward had thrown himself over top of Alice. He'd vowed to protect her, and he was going to do it, damn it! Sweat itched his forehead as it ran down from his hair. He ignored it, just as he ignored his knees and his elbows screaming from fatigue, or the way shards of broken plaster and cement were encased in the flesh of his palms. Blood seeped out from under his hands and knees.

But Alice was safe, and that was all that mattered. Her nose twitched as she stared up at him, her large eyes innocent and completely trusting. Edward smiled back at her.

"I won't let anything happen to you. Don't worry." He grunted, forcing his tiring arms back up. The weight on his back pressed back, increasingly heavy. "It'll be okay…"

* * *

"It'll be okay now," Ichigo said. He gestured above them. The ceiling was stopped mid air in its descent. Under them, the ground was intact, though portions of it had crumpled down into the floor beneath them. Ichigo was sweating. Urahara could not recall the last time he'd seen his friend so strained that he was sweating with exertion. "It'll hold. Even if I pass out, the building won't collapse anymore. This way we can get everyone out safely." 

Rukia whistled, impressed as she scanned the air above them. "A shield coupled with a freeze spell… that was some casting, Ichigo." He gave her an impressive smile. Rukia turned back to the ceiling. "I wonder what it was that caused it to collapse like that…"

"It was a missile." All three occupants in the room looked up to see Seshsoumaru perched on a floating piece of debris. Rin was slung over his back, her eyes peacefully closed. They were dirty but they didn't have any serious injuries.

Urahara's jaw dropped. "A missile? Are you serious?"

His gold eyes glanced over at him. "I'm always serious."

Urahara shrugged. "You have a point there. So, I guess this means that Kikyou managed to get her hands on missiles… it must have been Van. He'd have the access codes. Are we going to retaliate?"

"How?" Rukia pointed out. "We don't know where she's hiding. We wouldn't know where to strike for a counter-attack. Besides, our first priority will be getting people out of the building. We'll have injured to care for and the dead to bury."

Their blond friend pursed his lips. "That may be noble, but you can bet that if this was Shabranigdo, then he wouldn't wait to mourn before attacking us back."

"Well, we're not Shabranigo, now are we?" Rukia shrugged. Behind her, slumped against the dissecting table, Ichigo nodded. She turned back to Sesshoumaru. "Since you're down here, I suspect this means that you have found a way out?" He nodded. Rukia paused and then glanced at Urahara from the corner of her vision. "After this, are you still going to plan on leaving?"

"As I said before: I will leave when Miroku returns. They need me back home, too. Somebody has to keep Shabranigdo from infecting them back home. Japan has Sesshoumaru and yourselves. Rukia-sama, if you and Ichigo managed to stop Shabranigdo once, I know that you two can do it again. You don't need me here."

Rukia shook her head. "It'll be hard to bring Shabranigo here. We aren't as mobile as we were last time. To bring me back, Ichigo traded his mobility. You know he can't move from this facility."

"Rukia…" She turned to face her husband. He had a delirious, strange smile on his face. It was the kind of smile that made Akane so scared of Ichigo. "The facility is no longer above us. I can move again."

"You… you what…"

Ichigo didn't seem to hear her shock. He was staring up at Sesshoumaru with a delirious smile. "Please, Sesshy-kun," (the other demon glared at him for the nickname) "show me the way out. I'd like to see the sun again. I've missed it."

* * *

Outside, the sun was bright. Miroku pressed the button in Kikyou's limo to roll the glass window down. When the sun burst over the tinted window the light was so bright it hurt. He jumped back and shielded his face, but it didn't burn him. Miroku had known that vampires weren't destroyed by light like the stories said. They just avoided it because it did cause them pain. To Miroku, a freshly made vampire, it felt like bugs were crawling over his skin. Eventually, if he lived, one day it would feel like stabbing wounds. 

As his sensitive eyes adjusted to the light, he recognized the surrounding area. He was at the head office of the Japanese IBSP, but it wasn't there anymore. All that remained was a pile of rubble. His whole body froze. Before he could ask, Kikyou giggled. It sounded just like Kagome's dim, nervous giggles, but it was full of malice.

"It was a missile. I was told it struck dead on."

He whirled on her. Between them sat Suichiro. The broad man lazily pushed Miroku back down into his seat. He glared at Suichiro before looking back to Kikyou. "Why did you want to show me this? To gloat?"

"No. You're an empath. I want you to tell me who survived."

He glared a moment longer and then turned to look back at the pile of rubble. He could hear an approaching siren. He could feel Suichiro's hand on his shoulder. He let his mind drift from all of that, floating into the rubble. He wasn't doing it for Kikyou. Miroku was searching for himself. He had to make sure that the people he loved weren't in that building. He had to make sure…

"Well?" Kikyou asked when Miroku didn't say anything.

Miroku lied. "Inuyasha and Edward Elric are still alive. The blast never seemed to make it to that area. It stopped on the morgue level. The tech level has caved in. People there are dying. Not a lot of people were on the top floor. The ones on the main floor were crushed: a few janitors, the receptionist… I can't sense Darien, or Amy… I don't know if they were killed or if they weren't there."

Kikyou didn't ask. She straightened in her chair. "Then the rest are dead…"

Miroku's mind withdrew back into his body. He hadn't sensed the familiar minds of Fuu and Ferio. He couldn't bear to think of them dead in that rubble. He had to hold out the hope that they were still alive. Especially Fuu! He bit his lip when he thought of her dying somewhere, and with it, his little sibling… And Sango, and Akane, and Ranma? Where had they been? Were they dead in that rubble too? They were so full of life... he had to hope that they had made it, that they were still alive. If Fuu, Ferio, and Ranma had been in that building... he was alone. He was an orphan. _Again_. The hope tried to slide from him at that thought, but he lashed it to himself with stubborn refusal. "When did the missile hit?" he asked.

"This morning," Suichiro answered.

He shut his eyes. This morning. There was a chance that Ranma and Akane had been in there was well. Maybe, though, they had slept in. Ranma liked sleeping in. They might not have been in the building. But Sango—no. Sango _wasn't_ dead. He would know if Sango was dead. He would…

"She wasn't in it," Kikyou said. Miroku stared at her. She smiled. "Sango. I made sure she wasn't in the building before I fired. I don't want her dead. She wasn't my target."

"Then who was your target?"

"The people you know as Sesshoumaru, Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kurosaki, and Kisuke Urahara. They were the ones who sealed me away last time. I won't give them a second chance." She eyed the surprise on his face. "Didn't you know, boy? Ichigo and Rukia were the heads of the force to have me sent back to our old plane of existence. Sesshoumaru and Urahara were there too. Urahara was the one who figured out how to seal me away. Sesshoumaru was in charge of the forces to keep my allies from bay. The four of them worked together to seal me away, and Rukia paid for it with her own freedom. And then that Ichigo brought her back… I couldn't allow them to do it again. Now with them gone, the knowledge of how to seal me is gone with them."

Miroku's face was as calm as water as Kikyou gloated. He knew that they still lived. Perhaps, he was beginning to decide, being on Kikyou's side had its good points as well. He remembered the stories he had learned about his family. His predecessor had infiltrated the enemies' side to manipulate them from inside.

Miroku could do the same!

With that plan locked in his mind, Miroku waited until he was alone. When he had been locked in his room for the night, he pulled out his cell phone. He nearly kissed the cell phone when it found a signal. With shaking fingers, he dialed a number he was only, _only_ supposed to call during emergencies.

"Come on, pick up, pick _up_…"

"Miroku?" The deep, masculine voice on the other side had a note in surprise.

"Yes!" Miroku sank to the floor, leaning against his bed. He wished he could cry in happiness. "Sir… oh, Seshsoumaru-sama…"

There was a pause on the other side of the phone. "Calm down, Miroku. Take a deep breath. Now, where are you?"

He laughed bleakly. "You're never going to believe this…"

* * *

to be continued... 


	19. Kisuke Urahara

Chapter Eighteen: Kisuke Urahara

For the past four days, Sango had been worried sick. She had trouble sleeping. She had trouble eating. All she could think about was Miroku.

The day after the IBSP explosion, Akane and Sango had gone to visit Hitomi at her safe house. Hitomi had been distraught after learning about the destruction of the IBSP headquarters. She'd wrung her hands and had said, "But… Van wouldn't do such a thing… not on purpose."

Sango had been to busy staring out the window to comfort Hitomi. Akane had done so, gently rubbing the blind woman's arms and easing her back down into her seat.

"No one is blaming Van," she said with a comforting smile. "We know that he's being manipulated into it, and no one is holding that against him."

As they drove back home, Akane behind the wheel, she reached over flicked Sango's ear harshly. Sango mumbled something and rubbed her sore ear. Normally Sango would have at least glared. Akane veered into an empty parking lot without making a turning signal. She completely ignored the ay the car behind them blared their horn.

"Okay. It's almost been a week. Snap out of it, Sango. Since Miroku disappeared, you and Ranma have _both _been impossible to live with! Both of you need to stop moping about!"

"I'm sorry, Akane," she said pitifully, leaning her head against the passenger side window. "I haven't been feeling well. I just don't think that I have the energy to be anything but worried. Where's Miroku? Where did he go Akane?" Her friend was distraught to see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Why hasn't he called us? Why doesn't he at least let Fuu and Ferio know where he is? Fuu doesn't need this kind of stress with a baby on the way…"

"So worry," Akane snapped, "but don't mope about! Do you think it makes his disappearance easier to bear than the rest of us to see that you can't hold down any food or be so lifeless like this? Do you…"

Sango didn't seem to hear her. Tears were rolling over her pale cheeks. She let them roll. Her hands were in her lap, unnaturally still. Her tears dripped down on to her jeans, staining them in dark spots. "It's my fault, Akane."

"What?"

"It's my fault that Miroku ran away… he saw me. I was kissing Urahara. He was kissing me back. Miroku walked in on us. That's why he ran away. I thought that I'd said enough to make him think that I didn't want to be with him anymore, even though I… I still do," she sobbed. She flung herself into Akane's arms, letting her friend hold her. "I still love him, Akane! I can't love anyone else, not even Urahara-sama! I hurt him; I hurt him more deeply than anyone else _ever_ could and now he's run away."

"Sango… Look, even if that was the… crux… that made him want to run from everyone, it's not like you _made_ him do it. It was his own choice…"

She hugged Akane closer. "No, it wasn't." She sniffled and lifted her head, looking her friend in the eye. "Akane, don't tell the others. Urahara told me. Two days ago, Urahara remembered the locator chips he'd given us all. At first he didn't want to use it because he was worried that maybe Miroku didn't want to be found. Two days ago, I wasn't this worried, not until I talked to Fuu and Ferio and found out that he hadn't talked to _anybody_. At first, they thought he was with me and I thought he was mad at me so he was avoiding me. But when Urahara turned on the GPS chip, that's when Miroku's status was upgraded to MIA."

Her voice broke. "It wasn't _there_! He doesn't have a _signal_! They turn on the GPS and there's _nothing_, Akane! Nothing!" Her bottom lip shook. "That doesn't happen to someone who's mad at his ex-girlfriend! It has to be _dug_ out of his skin!"

Akane self-consciously rubbed her arm, where the GPS tracker was located. After being there for two years, she could no longer feel the raised bump that had marked where it was. She shuddered, agreeing with Sango. Removing the locator was not something one did lightly. When she lifted her head, she'd come to the same conclusion that Sango and Urahara had reached earlier.

"Someone had to remove it from him…"

"Someone who knew where it was," Sango nodded.

"…Shabranigdo."

"She'd be able to know from her psychic powers and also because she's had moles in the IBSP before. They might have informed her of the trackers." Sango turned away to stare out the window without really seeing the empty parking lot around them. "All I can think of his Miroku in the hands of that… _thing_! Look at that they did to him last time! They almost killed him. What are they doing to him now? And the fact that that… that _bitch_ has him is all _my_ fault! If I had been stronger, emotionally stronger, if I hadn't gone to Urahara, if I hadn't provoked him into kissing me, than Miroku would still be with his family, safe and sound. Where he belongs."

"Back the guilt train up, Sango! Okay, so maybe Miroku _is_ with the enemy, that still doesn't mean that it's your fault, Sango! Listen to what you're saying! That you _made_ Urahara kiss you? Listen to you wallow! You're Tora Sango, damn it! You're my best friend, and you _do not_ act like this!"

Sango stared at her for what felt like an age. Finally, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a weak smile. "If you think you could stand to hang out with me for a bit longer, Akane-chan, I'm kind of hungry… think we could hit somewhere for miso soup?"

Akane smiled with relief. She started the engine again. "Yeah, Sango-chan, I think we can do that." She pulled out of the empty parking lot just as a light rain was beginning to fall.

* * *

They went to a nearby coffee shop. It wasn't miso, but the café did offer soup. When Sango sat down at the table with the steaming mug of soup, she had to strain herself to keep from lifting it to her lips and drinking it down. Akane sat across from her, munching on a sandwich. Neither of them spoke. 

Over the ordering counter a tv was bolted into the wall. Someone had set it to the news. Sango watched it as she slowly ate her soup. The television showed a picture of the demolished IBSP building. Sango straightened in her seat.

"Hey!" The guy behind the counter glanced their way. She pointed at the television. "Can you please turn that up?"

"—_police are unable to explain the reason for the destruction of this office building in downtown Tokyo_ _yesterday. In a strange coincidence, the destruction of this building also coincides with similar confirmed bombings in London, Beirut, Tel Aviv, and Miami, Florida."_ The screen displayed footage of the destroyed buildings. Sango recognized the English IBSP, Beirut's headquarters, and Israel's, located underneath a building which had actually been erected around centuries-old trees to keep them from being cut down. Now there was nothing left of them but cinders. Her spoon clattered on the table when she saw the destruction in Florida.

"_As of yesterday_, _Florida_ _had the biggest death toll. Many people are still lost in the debris. Miami_ _police have estimated that more than one thousand people were killed when the explosion occurred just after midday. The latest unexplained attack struck in western Canada. International police are hesitant to call the incident a related bombing to the one which happened elsewhere, because this time it was not a corporate building which was struck. All other buildings, according to one source, belong to the IBSP—a so called International organization called Better Social Parameters which offers another judicial service equivalent to the overburdened Amnesty International._

"_The land targeted in Canada, although void of a corporate building, is owned by the IBSP. An explosion occurred just after dawn in British Columbia_ _in the Rocky Mountains. The ensuing landslide wiped out a town of twenty-thousand people. Mounties and Canadian police alike have been working non-stop at trying to free whomever they can from the slew of rock and dirt that covered their hometown._

"_The speed with which all these events have occurred have led some people to claim that an international terrorist group is behind the attacks…"_

Sango didn't wait to hear anymore of it. She bolted from the table. It wasn't far to Urahara's. Akane stood up quickly, wincing when her hip struck the table. "Sango-chan! Wait!"

She paused at the door to look back at her friend. Despite her worry, she managed to smile for Akane. "I'm okay. Get my soup to go for me, will you? I'm going over to see Urahara-sama." She pushed her way out the door.

The light rain had turned into a downpour. Sango could hear a rumbling off in the distance. It was going to turn into a thunderstorm. She could feel the rising electricity in the air. Her black blouse was plastered against her skin. She could feel the warm summer wind become cold from the water that covered her. Her hair was matted to her back and head, and not even her heavy footfalls could shake them loose. Large puddles splashed mud against her skirt and pantyhose. Quickly, water soaked into her shoes. Sango ignored it all.

She ran without stopping to Urahara's. Sango stormed her way through puddles and intersections, her speed running on frantic. She could feel bruises from where her tired and hungry legs had made her lose her balance and she bumped into people or metal poles. Her right shoulder was screaming in agony after she'd rolled over a car which had failed to stop when Sango had bolted across the street. Still she kept running.

Sango ran all the way to Urahara's flat. She banged on the front door with her fist. "Urahara-sama! Urahara-sama!" When there was no answer, Sango gritted her teeth and tried the doorknob. When she found it was unlocked, it didn't make things any easier.

Pushing open the door, she found that the apartment was dark. The only light came from the bedroom. Sango closed the door behind her, watching the light flicker. She recognized the source from the light. A television was on. The sound was off. "U… Urahara-sama?"

She tentatively moved closer to the bedroom. Sango leaned into the doorway. "K… Kisuke?"

Urahara was sitting on his bed. His was holding his head in his hands, pressing his face into them. His shoulders shook. In front of him, the television was talking about Canada, just as Sango had feared it was. Behind Urahara, Sango saw a half-packed suitcase laying open on the bed.

Sango slowly stepped into the room. Urahara was… was crying. She flung herself on him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and holding him. Urahara immediately held her back, his face hiding in the crook of her neck as he wept silently. His hands tightened when she pulled off his hat, letting her fingers trail through his blond hair soothingly.

"It's okay, Urahara… it's okay."

"No, it's not. I should have been there for them… I should have found a way to stop it…" Sango shut her eyes, pained, as she listened to him. Holding him was all he could do. "Everyone I knew… everyone… my family's gone… my people… my home… _gone_…"

"Even if you had been there, you might not have been able to stop it. If you were there, you might… you might be dead as well…" He didn't answer her. Sango glanced behind him at the open suitcases. She released him enough so that she could see him. "You're going back home, aren't you? You're… you're leaving me."

He lifted his head, using the back of his hand to dry his cheeks. Gingerly, he let his fingers touch her cheeks. "You're soaked to the bone."

"It's raining outside."

The television voicelessly flickered as the pictures changed. Urahara's cheeks were tinted blue and then white and green in turn. His soft eyes always remained the same steady color. The bed creaked as he stood up. "I'll get you a towel."

Sango grabbed his hand and pulled him back down on the bed. Her voice was distraught. If she was crying, Urahara couldn't discern her tears from the raindrops lingering on her face. "Kisuke," she said softly, "are you going back home?"

He nodded slowly. Sango let out a sob and bit her bottom lip to keep from bursting out again. His gentle hands held her close. "I have to go home. They need me there. I have to find whose left and figure out how Shabranigdo was able to do this. It's not just Van. She has others. I have to stop her before others get hurt. It's no longer just about stopping her here in Japan. We have to eradicate Shabranigdo's holds _everywhere_, Sango…"

"You were there when he was sealed away before," she pointed out. "Don't you see, Urahara? This is all some kind of a trap, meant to draw old players back into her old game? She wants revenge!"

"Even if it is a trap, Sango, I have to go. They _need_ me there."

She wanted to tell him that she needed him too, but she couldn't. That was too selfish. Sango had abused his friendship already. She had to let him go. Her arms slid from his waist, where she had been latched on as she tried to make him see reasonably. The television screen flickered again. A commercial break sent bright colors into the room.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't find the words. Sango closed her mouth. She stood up. Urahara returned to her with a towel. Sango accepted it, shivering. Urahara pulled some clean clothes out for her and gestured towards the washroom.

"Go and change into these," he said. There was warmth in his voice, but it was still cold. It was a voice of authority. "You'll get sick in those clothes."

Sango took them from him. As she stepped into the washroom, she heard him ask cautiously if there had been any word from Miroku. Sango shook her head and shut the door behind her. The silence was enough to tell Urahara that there hadn't been any word from their empathic friend.

The bathroom door opened again. Urahara politely rose from the bed to stand when Sango reentered the room. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Sango wearing one of his dress shirts. It came down to her thighs, and for being so large on her, it did not hide her exceptional body from his prying eyes. Sango shrugged towards the bathroom. "My clothes are hanging up to dry."

"Okay." Urahara nervously looked away. He heard Sango sit on the other side of the bed. "You know I'd stay if I could."

"I know."

He licked his lips nervously. "You know that I'd stay because I… I love you, don't you?"

Urahara heard Sango sniffle. "…yes." The bed shifted as she stood back up. "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning." Urahara turned to see her. She'd opened one his dresser drawers. "…Sango?'

She glanced at him over her shoulder. Her brown eyes were shining. "I'm going to help you pack. I don't want you to forget anything." They worked in silence. Sango doubted her fingers would ever forget the way the fabric of his shirt felt against her fingers, or the way his bedroom smelled of incense. Her body burned where his touched hers as he leaned around her, working around her. Sango knew, as she watched him close the last suitcase, that she'd never see him again. Her heart thudded in her chest.

"Urahara… I know that once I picked Miroku over you," she began nervously, staring away from him. "But… I don't want you to think that I didn't love you too. I do. I still do." The tears she'd managed to keep back as she watched the suitcases fill up with his belongings broke. She was losing much more than a friend. "You're my best friend, and my teacher, and my partner… I love you for being each of those things to me."

For a moment, it was awkward. Sango heard Urahara move. His hands closed around her shoulders and he drew her back to plant a chaste kiss against her cheek. Sango lifted a hand to cover his. She relaxed into that familiar body, letting his arms wrap around her and hold her close.

"Miroku will come back," he promised her after a long moment. "He's a lucky man to have you, and he'd be a fool not to come back to you. But you need to grow up a lot, Sango. Trust Miroku. Human or not, trust him."

"I'll… I'll try, Kisuke."

He kissed her wet, dark hair. She smelled like spring rains. "That's all anyone can ever do, Sango. I'm leaving Shabranigdo up to you guys, understand? You have to kick his ass for me. I'm leaving you Yoruichi too. I was going to leave it with Rukia and Ichigo, but then the building came do..." His voice broke and he composed himself, showing her a small smile though his blue eyes remained sad. "I don't think that he'd like the plane ride back to Canada."

"I… I understand, Kisuke."

His arms let her go. Sango watched him head to the nightstand and pull out an envelope. It was addressed to her. "I was going to mail that to you. It's a copy of my last will and testament. My lawyer here in Japan has a copy too. If something happens to me, I want you to open that on your wedding day." Her hand shook as she accepted it from him. Urahara's pale blue eyes stared into hers. "Be happy, Sango. No matter what, I want you to be happy."

"I… I think I can be, Urahara."

* * *

"You made him immortal." 

Kikyou looked up. Suichiro's body was blocking the doorway. She put down the pen she was holding and turned away from the desk. She'd never even heard the door open. She looked up at him. He was angry. He was beautiful when he was angry. She licked her lips hungrily, tasting the scent in the air. Anger was delicious. "I assume you mean Miroku?"

His hands clenched. Suichiro stood where he was and then rushed to her side in long, determined strides. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up from the chair. He was holding her tightly enough to bruise her. His dark blue eyes were furious, and he couldn't control his voice.

"Yes! Of course I mean Miroku!" He gave her a little shake. "For two years, I follow you devotedly. For two years, I follow you without question. For two years, we share a bed. For two years, I help you steal, and kidnap, and kill, and you reward me with money, and power, and women, but I didn't want it! I never asked for you to give me any of those things! All I ever wanted was to be by your side, always, and yet you constantly deny me that right!"

He shoved her back into the chair. Kikyou let herself fall, watching him whirl away and start pacing. "And then that little bastard shows up. You took one look at him and you made him into a vampire. You may have done it for yourself, and you may claim, that you did it for me, but I'm still _mortal_! I don't want to be mortal, Kikyou! Please… _please_, turn me too. It's all I will ever ask of you. Turn me too."

Falling to his knees, he begged, clinging to her. Kikyou stared at him, and her face slowly softened. Her hand trailed down his cheek. "Darling Suichiro… are you certain that this is what you want?"

His body shuddered with desire. "Yes! Oh God, yes, Kikyou!"

She smiled down at him. Her hand pressed against his cheek, drawing him up to her. Her lips brushed his. They shook. As her eyes drifted closed, he kissed her back. His kisses were gentle and harsh all at once: sometimes soft, and sometimes pressing roughly against hers. She loved all his kisses. Her hand tugged at the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to pull away. His lips were red from kissing her. His breath was ragged.

Her long tong licked his neck. Suichiro shuddered. His hands remained clutching the hem of her chemise. Kikyou kissed his neck gently, nuzzling it as she tried to find the perfect spot to bite. Old wounds were still visible on his neck: fading brown dots that indicated where she had bitten him before.

She sucked on the spot she chose gently. His hands slowly lifted and wrapped around her, holding her close and encouraging her. "I'm ready," he promised Kikyou.

Kikyou opened her mouth, feeling her fangs elongate. His neck was warm against her parted lips, his pulsing blood thundering in her ears. Slowly, she sank her teeth into flesh. He made sounds of pain as she bit down with aching slowness. Kikyou wanted to relish every moment of it. As she pulled her teeth back out, he was grunting and groaning at the pain, but she didn't feel bad for him. She knew that he enjoyed it.

Her lips sealed the wound as the blood began leaking from the fresh wound. She lapped at the crimson liquid, letting it roll around her tongue so she could enjoy the flavor. It tasted vaguely familiar… Kikyou swallowed. She lifted her head and stared down at Suichiro…

For a moment, just a heartbeat, Kikyou could have sworn that she was staring down at Miroku. She bitterly swallowed his blood. Kikyou pushed him away, sending him sprawling on to the floor. She bolted from the chair, heedless of the fact that she was in nothing more than a slip and a silk chemise, both of which were now dotted with blood.

"I'm sorry, my love, but… I have something I must see too first."

Suichiro had been rejected. He clamped a hand over the wound, staring at her the way a witless animal would watch their master run away.

* * *

Kikyou stormed down the hallway of her secret headquarters. She knew where she was going. She could sense Rezo's presence, just as she could pinpoint the location of any of her followers. Kikyou had learned it was wise even to keep tabs on people you trusted. 

She slammed the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall before swinging shut behind her. Rezo was leaning over his bed, folding up his clothes with a precision bordering on paranoid. Two closed suitcases leaned against a wall. Kikyou took it all in before she rushed him and punched his cheek.

"You're leaving me? You? My most devoted follower, you're leaving me?"

Rezo straightened, rubbing his jaw. The tall, broad-shouldered professor stood nearly a foot over Kikyou. His gold eyes took her in, and decided it was prudent to be polite. "You don't need me anymore here, Kikyou. You have my son. You have a growing army."

"I still didn't give you permission to go," she snapped.

"I wasn't aware that I need your permission." He sighed and sat down on the bed, trying to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight with Shabranigdo. "I retired this year. I'd like to see the world now, when I'm still young enough to do it without the use of a cane. I couldn't see the world before you. I want to use your gift to me and see the great wonders of the world: the pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, the L'Arc de Triumph… I want to see things I only read about with my fingers."

Kikyou resisted the urge to punch him again. "You were going to go without telling me the _truth_." she hissed.

Rezo blinked innocently. "And what truth is that?"

She slapped his cheek again. "Don't be coy! Don't you dare try to lie to me, Rezo. Did you know the truth? Did you know who Suichiro was when you adopted him? Did you?"

He stared back at her and then looked away. "I knew. I knew who he was. But he was a new born! I couldn't kill him… and then, after I had taken him in and watched him grow up, I knew I would never be able to do it. I loved him. I had raised him. Thank God for university. It was then that I met Miroku, and I recognized him. I recognized him as Suichiro's elder brother. And I knew, then, that we had a chance to bring you back to this plane of existence." He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away. It pained Rezo to see the tears in her eyes. She was far too human in that frivolous, sensitive female body.

"Does Suichiro know?" Rezo didn't answer. She shook him by the collar of his dress shirt, yelling. "Does Suichiro know that Miroku is his brother?"

"…no."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"Because this way he never has to be hurt by the idea of his brother being used by us. This way they can remain enemies. I worry that by telling them, it risked them joining together. Blood is stronger than the ties I have with Suichiro. He was always so lonely as a child. To learn that he has a brother and that I never told him the truth… I worried it was enough to make him turn against me and side with him."

Kikyou shook her head. "Why didn't you at least tell me when I returned to this world? It was dangerous to me to not know this. If the IBSP ever got their hands on either of those two men, they could use their deaths to seal me away again. I was not concerned with Miroku: he is their ally, and no doubt they would try to avoid killing him, but Suichiro is an enemy and therefore expendable."

"Then… you can be sent back?" Rezo asked. He stared at her a moment and then shook his head. "I apologize, my lord. I thought, when I had brought you back, that you could not be returned. Had I known, I would have waited for a time when it was safe to bring you back without risk of your return to the astral plane."

Kikyou straightened, composing herself before she patted his head. "How would you have known, Rezo? Miroku's blood released me, and Miroku's blood can send me back. Suichiro's can too. This simply… complicates matters." She paused, and her voice sweetened. She sat beside Rezo, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. "Where are you going first, Rezo?"

"North America. There is a cruise leaving there. It will show me Hawaii, and the Western coastline, and Alaska. It will show me dolphins and whales, cliffs, mountains, and volcanoes. My plane leaves tomorrow morning."

"Then I do not have much time to say goodbye to you…"

Kikyou said goodbye. She would see to it that he would not make it to North America alive. No one kept information from her. No one left her.

No one.

* * *

The smiling stewardess pointed Rezo towards his seat. A man was already occupying the window seat next to his. He looked the man over: strange green and white hat, an overly large coat, and gi pants. Rezo's lip curled when he noticed the geta sandals. He took his seat, stifling a groan. Weren't they supposed to keep the freaks and weirdoes restricted to coach? 

The other man pulled out a fan and began fanning himself. Rezo thought hat maybe the blonde-man was trying to flirt with him, especially when the man spoke in that flimsy, lilting and soft voice: "Oh my, oh my. Suit case… gold eyes… rather violet hair… oh my, oh my." The blonde main smiled and closed his fan, pushing up his hat enough so that the shadows lifted from startling beautiful blue eyes. "Rezo, isn't it?"

The stewardess motioned for people to do up their seatbelts. Rezo did so with fumbling hands as he whispered, "How do you know my name?"

"We have a few mutual acquaintances. Your favorite students knows my favorite student. Miroku spoke highly about you… before the… _incident_ I mean. It's not every day a professor tries to ritually kill one of their students, now is it?"

"Shh!" Rezo glanced around them. The plane was taking off. He couldn't run away. He had to admit that he wasn't looking very forward to spending an entire plan ride next to the blond man.

"Maybe you've heard of me, Rezo. Tora Sango might have mentioned my name in passing. Urahara. Kisuke Urahara." He bared his teeth and leaned in close enough that his lips almost touched Rezo's ear. "Ring a bell, Rezo?"

The man stared right ahead, his fingers shaking slightly. Yes, he had heard of that name before. Urahara had fought bravely in the battle against Shabranigdo. People said he was a genius, a regular Odysseus. They also said that he had a streak in him for a barbaric kind of justice. He was one of the originals. They protected their own with an intensity that sometimes bordered on insanity. Urahara's hand closed over his shaking fingers. He couldn't see anything but the blue eyes, so very cold, framed by gold bangs.

"We're going to have a long flight, Rezo. We have much to talk about."

* * *

The next day was grey and bleak. No one felt very good. First Miroku had gone missing, then the IBSP was bombed, and then Urahara had to leave them. No one had heard much from Ichigo, Rukia, or Sesshouamru either, and somewhere Van and Merle were still hostages. Only a few short weeks ago, back on Miroku's sunny graduation day, things had looked so _normal_. The situation had looked manageable. Now everything was going to hell. 

It was Fuu who had tried to pull everyone out of their stump. She made a few phone calls and invited everyone over for supper. She had then handed a large container of potatoes to Ferio and had ordered him to clean them and peel them to make mashed potatoes. To Ranma she had handed him the tongs to the barbecue and a box of matches and told him that he was in charge of cooking the meat. Ranma had looked almost pleased.

"You're trusting me with the barbecue?" Normally Ranma had the potato-job.

Fuu smiled brightly. "Yes, I am. I know you can do a good job to make Ferio, Akane and I very proud of you. There are chicken breasts in the fridge. You can do them up anyway you would like. Akane is bringing a salad, and Sango said she would cover desert."

Sure enough, Akane had a salad with her when she arrived, Sango in tow. Akane chatted lightly with Fuu and Ferio for a moment before going out on the balcony to visit Ranma. She was greeted with open arms. A light rain drizzled, fat raindrops dripping from the corners of the balcony. The air was humid. Akane watched the mist curl around the buildings below them before she looked up at Ranma. There were bags under his eyes.

"You haven't been sleeping very well lately."

"I know. I keep worrying. I keep having nightmares. Don't… don't tell anybody, okay, Akane?" His eyes were pleading as he looked down at her. When she nodded he opened the barbecue and added some more sauce to the chicken. "I don't just worry about Miroku. I keep having nightmares about you, and Van and Merle, and even Sango. In my dreams, all of you are dead, and I… whatever killed you is chasing after me, and I can't stop it."

She slowly wrapped her arms around his back, resting her cheek against the fabric of his shirt. His muscles were tense. "We won't die so easily, Ranma. You have a right to be frightened, you know. We all do. Even I have nightmares."

He snorted. "You hide it very well." Ranma closed the barbecue and turned back to Akane, lifting her chin with his fingertips. His eyes scanned her face as she looked up at him. Her eyes were soft, but there was a familiar stubbornness to her mouth that he had grown to love. He felt his own face lose its harshness. "You're still as beautiful as ever…"

"Ra… Ranma…"

"Akane… if we both live through this, I want to marry you. As soon as Shabranigdo is gone, I want to marry you. I want to fight through this knowing that at the end, you're going to always be with me, watching my back for me." Akane was frozen to the spot as he bent his head down to hers and kissed her mouth nervously. It was not a mind-blowing kiss, but it was wonderful all the same. As she uncertainly kissed him back, Akane felt like the world was falling away. All that was left was a pleasant, fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and Ranma.

Fuu spotted them kissing from inside the kitchen and sighed. "Oh my… I hope he doesn't let the food burn…"

Sango smiled. Typical, wonderful Fuu. "Knowing Ranma, he'll open his mouth and say something that'll piss Akane off. Then I think you have more to worry about the barbecue being used as some type of weapon against Ranma than the meat burning."

Sure enough, a moment later there was a resounding slap and Akane stormed in. She glanced around the kitchen and spotted a carrot ready for slicing. Grabbing the largest knife in the kitchen, she began cutting away as ferociously as she could.

Sango smiled as she broke open the bottle of wine Ferio had picked up from the store. "What did he say, Akane?"

Glancing over ser shoulder, she growled. "It's none of your business!"

SLAM went the knife as she sliced off more carrot.

Ferio chuckled, picking up the glass of wine Sango had poured for them. "It must have been pretty bad, then. Here's to knowing that even in the face of danger and worry, there are always some things that you can always count on."

Dinner went by swimmingly. Even without Miroku, whose empty seat around the dinner table was painfully obvious, everyone was able to relax and enjoy themselves. Ferio was fairly liberal with the white wine, Akane's salad was surprisingly delicious, Ranma's meat made their mouths water, and Fuu's cooking was a wonderful compliment. By the time that Sango pulled out her desert, a dish covered in fresh blueberries and tasting a little like cheesecake, everyone had felt their moods lift.

Ferio glanced at his watch. "Does anybody mind if we thrown on the news while we eat Sango's desert?" Everyone shook their heads no. Fuu turned it on for them while Sango served the dish. When Ferio took a bite, he touched her wrist and winked up at her. "Sango, if you don't want to marry Miroku, then I demand that if our next child is a male we betroth you two immediately so I can always have this dish."

Sango smiled at him, feeling herself blush at the idea of marrying Miroku. It was something she'd not really considered. Marriage just seemed so… far away. She still wasn't done her schooling! And there was, of course, the question of a job. If she married Miroku, she wouldn't be able to work at the IBSP…

The news anchor saved her from trying to answer. "_Our top story tonight is another mysterious bombing. A plan flying from Japan_ _earlier this evening exploded as it was coming down on the runway into the airport in Hawaii_ _today for a refuellling before continuing to Victoria, Canada. Reports indicate that there were slightly over four hundred people on board, not including the two pilots and the stewardesses. The falling debris killed four workers on the runway at the time, and injured many others. The frame of the plane, having survived the explosion, careened into a loading plane, causing it to explode as well. Luckily, death tolls from the second explosion were kept to a minimal as loading had not yet begun. _

"_Hospitals in Hawaii_ _were quickly overcrowded by…"_

"Turn it off," Sango said.

"…_with minor injuries who had been injured from the second explosion. Crews have not yet began to tally the cost to rebuild the damages done to the airport…"_

"Turn it off!" she shouted. Fuu grabbed the remote control form her husband and turned the television off as it displayed firefighters trying to extinguish the flames from a large plane. Sango's hands shook. She couldn't tear her eyes from the television screen…

"Urahara-s… sama… _Urahara_!"

* * *

To be continued. 


	20. The Hunt

Chapter Nineteen: The Hunt

Miroku was beginning to think that people had forgotten about him. He glanced at his watch as he lay on the large bed. No one had come in to check up on him in several hours. Void of human contact, his stomach growled.

Earlier that day, Kikyou had once again come to him carrying a steaming container of blood. When he saw it, he'd curled his lip in disgust. They micro waved the blood to make it warm. It still tasted gross. Miroku had accepted the cup and drunk it down without complaint, knowing that complaints resulted in punishment. He'd tried to avoid drinking the first cup she had brought to him and he'd been punished.

Miroku didn't want to experience that again.

The worst part of the ordeal was that it satiated him in a way that nothing ever had. It wasn't like he'd been simply hungry and then had eaten. It was more like he had been suffocating and then he had finally gotten a breath of air. Without having blood for the past day, Miroku could feel the suffocation creeping up on him, climbing slowly up his throat. Without any human contact and the feeling of powerful auras or emotions, the suffocating feeling was creeping up stronger than ever.

Miroku glanced again at his watch. It was just a little after six.

_God, being a prisoner is so incredibly boring…_

His head hurt. Miroku rubbed his forehead, trying to alleviate the pounding pressure slowly growing there. He let out a grunt of pain. It wasn't diminishing. His skin felt hot to the touch. He was burning up. Miroku's violet eyes drifted closed as he felt the world shatter around him. Everything faded to black.

_Urahara-sama_…

Miroku struggled to maintain his hold on his body. He didn't want to be lost on the darkness. His tenuous grip was suddenly amplified by that voice, giving him something to fight for. 'Sango!'

_URAHARA!_

The bleak world around him shook with pain. He suddenly felt like crying or screaming out himself when he felt that voice reverberate around him. His hands felt the blanket under him as he squeezed it tightly in his hands. He was starting to come to again. As if responding to his own panicked thoughts and not being a hollow echo of Sango's lingering cry, his heart thudded in his cold chest. The beats were almost painful in his ears.

Sango. Something was wrong with Sango.

But how? How did he know that? Was that scream a farce? Was Kikyou toying with him again?

He didn't care. He didn't want to ask questions. Ever since he'd nearly died under Inuyasha's scalpel he had been unable to shake Sango's feelings. The air around her had always been tinged faintly with her emotions, and even without looking at her, he knew what she was feeling from the way the air and heat changed around her body with her different auras. Now that he was a vampire and his psychic abilities had improved, it only made sense that his ability to sense Sango's thoughts and emotions had also been amplified!

God, the very idea of being able to sense her emotions from across town was frightening…

Miroku didn't care if it was a trick or not. Sango was afraid and scared. He _had_ to go to her…

'Why?' he asked himself as he picked himself from the bed. Miroku smoothed down his black dress shirt with a shaking hand. 'She dumped you. She hurt you. You don't owe any loyalties to her. Why should you risk your neck getting out this place when she doesn't need you? She has other friends she could go to if she needed help…'

He paused, staring down at his running shoes. They were scuffed and coated with dirt from the cavern system. 'Don't tell me that after she hurt you like that you still have _feelings_ for her... Miroku… damnit, you really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?' His hand closed around the doorknob. The room wasn't locked, but there was a lycanthrope on the other side of the room who had been told to keep him from going outside. He gulped, putting on his best poker face. 'Idiot. You haven't even fed yet. You could possibly be putting her in danger!

'If I can control myself by dating Sango for two years without ever taking advantage of her, I can control myself for one night.'

He pulled open the door. The lycanthrope on the other side blinked at him and then reached for the gun slung into his hip holster. "Get back in yer room!"

"Okay," Miroku sighed, his shoulders slumping. He turned back towards the room. "It's your head…"

Sure enough, the man perked up his ears at Miroku's mutterings. "It's my what?"

"Head." Miroku spun back around, giving the man a bored look. There was no trace of his lie on his face. "My Lady just called me to her."

The werewolf was shocked. "You mean… you mean that she spoke to you? She spoke into your mind directly?" Miroku nodded. "B… but that's one of our highest honors we can get… and you're just a prisoner… she spoke to you like that?"

"Yes. She said that she was having a very bad day. She wants me to come and help cheer her up. I have to admit that I'm not exactly looking forward to it. The last time she was in a bad mood, she cut me up pretty good. No doubt she'll want to do the same this time…"

"I don't know." The werewolf rubbed his chin. "This sounds kind of fishy to me…"

Miroku smiled at the guard. "Of course, you may feel free to check my story. But I'd be careful, if I were you. When she sees that I'm not the one going to her, or that someone else other than I have disturbed her… well, it's likely not going to be very pretty."

The guard decided it would be best to let Miroku go to Kikyou instead.

* * *

Sango couldn't sleep. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness and took a quick look at Akane. Her friend was fast asleep. Slowly sliding off of her futon, she grabbed a robe from off the floor and wound it around herself. The summer air was hot, but it just felt nice to have something to cuddle in. 

She didn't turn a light on in the kitchen. She didn't want to wake up her uncle. Sango leaned against the counter, feeling oddly numb, as the water boiled. Adding some sugar to the green tea, Sango toyed with the tea bag as she walked out to the porch. The sliding glass door clicked shut behind her.

The lake was just visible through the trees. It was as black as the night sky, but the moon made little silver crests wherever the air disturbed the surface. The trees cracked quietly in the breeze. Sango pushed unbound hair back over her shoulder to keep it from getting into her tea.

It was calming and familiar. It was so familiar, Sango found it hard to believe that time had passed since she had first come to the cottage and stood on the porch at night, staring into the black lake. The hot tea warmed her throat. The only thing indicating that it had been almost two decades were the height of herself and the trees around her.

It was strange to think that Urahara was never going to see that lake again. She sniffled, but there were no tears. Sango had already had enough of the tears. She set the tea cup down on the railing of the cottage, sighing.

"I miss you… Miroku…"

Dry branches snapped. Sango spun to look at the rest of the desk. Her eyes widened when she saw Miroku was standing at the far side of the porch. Her eyes scanned up slowly: two legs, blue jeans a size too large, a black dress shirt opened enough to reveal a strong chest, that familiar chin, that sculpted mouth, those intimate grey eyes, that familiar hair cut… Sango sobbed. He was uninjured. He was complete and… and _there_!

"Miroku!"

She ran to him. Sango flung her arms around his neck, her feet dangling just off the ground as he held her back. His hug was ferocious. Sango's voice was muffled from his shirt. "I was so worried about you!"

"I know you were, Kitten." He could feel her hold back the sob at her old nickname. Miroku kissed her long hair, squeezing her tighter. His voice was comforting and wavered with apology. "I know that you were worried about me. I'm sorry that I couldn't get in touch with you."

"Where have you been?" she sighed demandingly. Sango lifted her head to look at him. That close to Miroku, that was when she saw it. She hadn't thought to make sure Miroku was still human. It was painfully obvious this close to him. There was a violet, detracted sheen to his eyes that hadn't been there before. His skin was flawless. His teeth were a little too sharp, his lips a little too inviting. And his smell was different. There was something—a flicker or a tinge of power—that made it clear he was no longer human. Sango's lips drifted apart as she stared at him in shock.

He wasn't happy. There was no hint of the bloodlust in him. Even with the detachment in his eyes, he was totally focused on her. He was sincere and honest. Sango's arms slid from around his neck and he released her. The honesty turned into fear when he saw that the she was on-guard.

"You're a vampire…"

Miroku hung his head out of shame. "Not by choice, Sango…"

"What happened to you?"

"Kikyou's goons found me. They brought me to her hide out. Kikyou fed off of me, and then forced me to drink her blood. She cut herself and held the wound over my throat as I lay dying and let it fill up with blood. I was still breathing. She held my nose shut until I swallowed to be able to breath. When I woke up… I was like this."

She never thought. Not even for a moment, that he was lying to her. Sango touched his cheek gently. Miroku's pained eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. "Poor Miroku… if the IBSP finds out, they'll kill you."

He laughed bitterly. "Let them… I'm scared, Sango." His eyes opened and he looked down at his hands without really recognizing them. "I'm so scared of myself. I'm scared that I'm going to attack a human. I'm scared that I'm a danger. I'm scared of these new powers… I can see auras again, Sango. Not just see, but _taste_! I can taste emotions, just like Hitomi said I might… and I can hear thoughts, Sango. But just yours… even from that hell, I heard you crying out Urahara's name…"

Her fear for Miroku was lost as he asked her what had happened that had made her cry like that. Sango managed to hold her ground rather than reaching for Miroku again. Had he still been human, it would have been different. Had he been human, he would not have been a threat. "He… he's dead," she cried. Her bottom lip shook and her body shuddered suddenly. "The plane he was on… he's dead. Dead!"

"Shhh…." Miroku's arms enveloped her. She felt calm waves wash over her and her shivering stopped at once. Miroku bent lightly and picked her up. A lawn chair sat proper up on the deck. Her uncle always used it. Miroku sat in it, holding Sango to his chest. Her nose was tucked under his chin, his lips safely away from her vulnerable neck. Miroku's hands, as they always did, gently brushed her hair. "I'm sorry, Sango. He was a good man, and your friend… everyone liked Urahara."

"I was so used to seeing him… I never thought that he would die…"

Miroku relaxed into the chair. His hand never stopped stroking her hair. Miroku could feel her relax, and her lashes brushed his neck when they drifted shut, but she never fell asleep. He felt that, too. Miroku held her for hours, the silence surrounding them. Their sharp ears could detect the waves gently lapping against the sandy shore, and the trees creaking, and soft sounds of nocturnal animals shuffling about.

"You still have a heartbeat," Sango said after several hours had passed.

"It's just an illusion." Sango heard the disgust in his voice. Miroku stretched his legs. His joints popped, stiff. "I should go and hunt. I haven't fed yet today."

Sango didn't make a move to get off of him. She was trying her best to keep her expression calm, but Miroku was well aware that she was distraught. "Are you… do you feed on humans?"

"No. Not blood, anyway. I can sustain myself a little on emotions, which I can get from humans, but so far I've only drunk animal blood." He didn't care to acknowledge her diminutive sigh of relief. Miroku stood up and deposited Sango gently on the porch. His dark hair was invisible in the darkness, except where it contrasted his pale face.

"But," she began, watching him walk away, "where will you find animal blood?"

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at her. There was a heartbreaking smile of laughter etched on his face flawlessly. Sango could feel that it was earnest. "I don't know. I guess that I'll try hunting for it."

"Miroku," she sighed, trying hard not to laugh. "You don't how to hunt."

"No, I don't. You're right."

Her hand snuck up on his shoulder. Sango's eyes were like amber in the night. "Let me come with you, then. Let me hunt with you. I'll show you how to hunt."

* * *

_I can feel it_, Sango's voice said inside Miroku's mind. _We're getting closer._

Miroku nodded. He could feel it too. It was strange how easy it was to hunt in his new body. His chest didn't hurt from running, even though they'd been running since they left Sango's house twenty minutes ago. Miroku felt like he could run forever. He hadn't even broken a sweat. His feet were as quiet as Sango's paws as they landed on the ground. She had demanded that he went in bare feet, and he loved it. He loved feeling the sand and leaves under his feet.

They were hunting down a deer. They had smelled it early on. Sango said it smelled like a horse. Miroku only smelt the blood, the rich blood coursing through the deer's body. He leapt over a fallen tree, his body easily clearing the branches and leaves and he landed effortlessly on the other side. Sango landed beside him. They never once lost their stride.

It was also strange to think that he was somehow used to running next to a tiger. Running next to Sango when she was in her true form was… exhilarating. It was a dream came true. Sango's form came up to his waist at the tips of her large, fuzzy ears. When they ran side by side, sometimes his fingers brushed her fur. She was warm and soft, like a living teddy bear. Miroku could feel her heart pounding, making his own go off in unison. Both of them could see perfectly in the night, albeit there was no color.

_It's in the next clearing_!

Sango put on a final burst of speed before she charged through the underbrush. They had run down the deer. It could barely hold itself up as Sango's large mouth closed around its neck. The deer tried to rear and kick Sango off, but she was too heavy. Her weight pulled the dear down and it crashed to the ground. Sango held on as for a moment as the deer struggled to kick once more and then lay still. Miroku leaned against the tree, his chest heaving without the painfully familiar sting of his raw lungs.

Sango let go of the deer. The animal was still on ground, but Miroku could see the blood spilling from its neck. His mouth throbbed. His teeth itched. He could feel his fangs come down. Before he knew it, he had launched himself at that gracefully arched neck, sinking teeth into the dead flesh and drinking contentedly. He focused everything on the blood.

He didn't hear Sango as she started to feed. Sango dug into the flank, far away from Miroku. Her teeth easily ripped away the hide to get at the meat underneath. Sango much preferred human food, finding it tastier, but the raw animal meat made her stronger. Sango had a feeling that she was going to need as much strength as she could. Besides the logic, Sango couldn't bear to see the rest of the animal go to waste.

When Miroku had finished feeding, he looked up to see that Sango was full as well. She sat back, licking her paws free of blood and then delicately wiping her face. Miroku guiltily scrubbed his own mouth with the back of his hand. When it came away bloody he wiped it on his jeans. He didn't hear Sango move over to lick his cheek with her rough tongue.

_You missed a spot,_ she purred. Her long whiskers tickled his face.

Miroku reached to scratch her chin. He smiled at her. He was kneeling, his eyes on the same level as hers. Her gold eyes drifted shut as her purring intensified. Miroku lowered his head to lean his forehead against her soft fur. Sango's scent was slightly musky from her tiger-form.

She sighed his name. Her tongue licked his cheek again.

He couldn't remember who started it or how it happened. He wasn't quite sure of anything until Sango's nails dug into her back as she climaxed under him. He gasped at the sensation, feeling his skin mend itself. Miroku looked down at the woman laying under him. Her hair was matted with leaves and her breathing was ragged. The way her long teeth brushed her swollen lips made her tired expression look erotic. Her whole body was still covered in a light layer of fur, making her stomach white and her sides stripped. A tail disturbed the leaves littering the ground as it slowly moved up and down.

Miroku collapsed on top of her, welcomed into her open arms. She cradled him gently, brushing his hair back into the disheveled look he most preferred. Miroku pretended not to be relieved at knowing that his body still functioned properly. He knew he had done well from the happy color of her aura. His eyes drifted closed as she stroked his hair.

"At least I know now that you still find me attractive," Sango laughed gently.

"Of course I do. You're amazing."

She blushed. He could feel the heat of it even from where his head lay over her heart. "After what had happened… I thought that maybe you might not have been able to stand the thought of seeing me anymore… Miroku…" He felt a tear land on his cheek. "Miroku, I didn't want to hurt you like that. I'll understand if you hate me, but please understand that I didn't want you to walk in one that. I… No. There's no real way to apologize for what I did, but I am. I'm sorry."

Miroku's voice was hollow. "I am too, Sango."

Still, he didn't get up.

Morning came far too soon. Miroku untangled himself from Sango's arms to find that she was slowly awakening herself. He stretched and yawned before he reached for his jeans. "I need to get back to Kikyou's. She'll find me missing soon, if she hasn't already."

"You—you're going back!" Sango shot up. "But you finally escaped from there! She forced this on you, held you prisoner, and you're going back?"

"Where else should I go, Sango?" he snapped, his eyes rivaling even the violet of the sunrise. "You told me yourself last night that any IBSP employee who saw me would shoot me. I can't go home. I won't live out here like a renegade. At least there I can sleep in a real bed and have regular food, even if it is blood reheated in a ceramic cup."

"Stay here at the cottage! We can build you a place to stay! There's lots of land. I can hunt with you again, and…"

"And what? And afterwards we can do this again?" he demanded, indicating her nudity. He felt ashamed of himself when Sango tried to cover herself with her arms. That had been a low blow. His mouth thinned into a stubborn line. "No thanks. Don't think that just because I'm able to make love to you now means that I'm going to snap to whenever you want. I'm still mad with you, and you have a lot to make up for. I deserve that, and I'm not going to risk the day when we can't find anything to hunt and I turn on you. Besides, if I don't return, who do you think Kikyou will take it out on? Van? Merle?"

She flinched at each name. Miroku stared down at her. She couldn't even bring herself to look up at him. He could see the guilt and the anger swirling around her, but he wasn't sure which one was winning. Miroku grabbed his shirt and pulled it roughly on over his shoulder. "As it is, she's going to take it out on my hide for coming here. I wanted to comfort you. I did that, so now it's time to go back. Don't expect to see me again for a little while."

"Can… Can you tell me where her lair is?"

His eyes shot back down to her. Always business, with Sango. His thin lips tightened to the point where creases lined the corner of his mouth. Miroku let himself go in that anger, hoping that it would burn all the way back to Kikyou's. His anger would afford him some protection. "No."

"But… but why not? That's what we've been trying to find out all this time, and…"

"Because it might be exactly what Kikyou wants!" he snapped back. Sango flinched at his voice. "Don't you get it, Sango? I'm _bait_. I'm bait for you. Kikyou is after you. She wants your body. She wants you to be a host. If I tell you where it is, then you'll come after me, and she'll have you!"

He stared down at her for a second longer and then turned away, starting to walk back in the direction of the cottage. He heard Sango get up and retrieve her clothes. The soft sound of her voice stopped him as she said his name. He took a glance back to see her straightening with her back to him, clutching her shirt tightly in her hand.

"I still love you… even like this. I'm not scared of you."

"…I know. I… I'll try to write to you, to let you know that I'm okay."

He never said that he loved her back.

Miroku walked back to road leading to Kakashi and Sango's cottage. A car he had stolen from Kikyou's garage was parked by the side of the road. He climbed in and started the car and made it a kilometer before he pulled over. His cheeks itched. He lifted his fingers. His cheeks were wet. He was crying. He was crying real tears!

He never should have said those things to her. He never should have raised his voice. He regretted making love to her. God, did he regret that! He never should have gone there; he never should have started reaching out for her; he never should have pushed her away like that, but she couldn't! She _couldn't_ come after him! That was just what Kikyou wanted!

She'd hurt him. She'd promised never to hurt him, and she had. Miroku had hated her for what he saw, what he had _heard_, watching her under Urahara… Some part of him did still hold that against her. But the other part remembered the way her whiskers tickled his chin, the way she moved so silently in the kill, the way her emotions ran strong enough around her to satisfy both of them…

He was so confused!

Miroku wrapped his hands around the steering wheel and pressed his cheek against the steering wheel and cried.

There was another reason why he couldn't tell Sango where Kikyou's lair was. When he had called Sesshoumaru his boss had made it perfectly clear: Miroku would have to die, in the end. He was a vampire. He was a risk and a human-killer by his very nature now. He couldn't live without humans. But, until then, he was still an IBSP member so far as Sesshoumaru was concerned. Now they had what they had always wanted: someone on the inside. Miroku was now spying for the IBSP. If Sango came to rescue him, then the carefully laid plans of Sesshoumaru would be laid to waste.

'Sango _shouldn't _love me… I'm a dead man.'

* * *

His head whipped to the side from her slap. Miroku's cheek stung, but he did not lift his hand to cover it. He refused to nurse a wound delivered by Kikyo while still in her presence. The wound didn't really hurt, which caused Miroku some worry. He wasn't hurt that he had been injured. There was no shock; no feeling of betrayal… of course, how could you feel betrayed by a wound when you'd been expecting it. 

"Where were you?"

Miroku remained silent against Kikyo's inquisition. When she realized he refused to answer her, Kikyou smiled cruelly. She leaned in close to Miroku. She didn't worry about Miroku lifting a hand to strike her back: she had Suichiro and Dolph to make sure that he wouldn't be able to get off of his knees.

She sniffled loudly. "You don't have to tell me. I can smell the answer. You went to go and see Sango. You were a bad boy, Miroku." She clucked her tongue and straightened. "But I can at least understand why you wanted to go and see Sango. She's _is _beautiful, isn't she?"

Miroku's beautiful mouth lifted into a cruel sneer. "She's prettier than _you_."

Kikyou froze. Miroku felt triumph from having insulted her, gotten her so angry. He watched as Kikyo struggled to compose herself. She was torn between vengeance, demanding obedience, and the knowledge that she couldn't beat Miroku into submission. She needed him to capture Sango, and she couldn't break him. Then he wouldn't be suitable bait. Her aura was an impressive mosaic as she struggled to contain herself.

She turned to stare at him, biting her thumb in the habit she had from Kagome's lingering subconscious. Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared down at him. "I had wanted you to bring Sango to me, but you knew that, didn't you?"

"I even warned her that's what you wanted to do."

Kikyou's hand darted forward. She grabbed his bangs and pulled so hard that he lifted from his knees. One eye winced in pain, but he was able to keep the other on her. Her voice was freezing. "I wanted you to be loyal to me. You don't have to be. Your body can be bait just as well as you can alive. That was your first mistake, Miroku. You get one more. If you make that second mistake, you won't be alive to make a third. If you make one more mistake, I will capture Sango by hanging your body from a noose by the spire on top of the Tokyo Tower. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," he gulped.

There was no sign of fear on his face. Instead, Kikyo almost thought that he looked pleased. Sadistic. Yes, he looked almost happy that she had threatened him. Kikyou released him and he slumped back down to the ground.

"You're punishment," she said with her chin held high, "will be to feel all the pain that the guard you tricked is feeling." Kikyou looked at Dolph. "Take him where his screams won't disturb me. I have work to do."

"Yes, my lord." Dolph bowed before grabbing Miroku by his collar and draging the vampire behind him.

With a sigh, Kikyou slumped into a chair. All her carefully laid plans were going to shit. She wiped away the smile that threatened to grace her face. So much for the human element. Of course, there had always been the idea that her plans could go wrong. That was what happened when you worked with humans. They were apt to do things she hadn't normally counted on.

A hand slid around her shoulders. Kikyou patted Suichiro's hand reassuringly. Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed the way his sturdy body leaned against hers. When they opened, she knew what she had to do. She needed to make a contingency plan. "Suichiro," she purred. "I'm sorry. I'm going to use you. I trust you. If Miroku fails, then I will still have you to be able to bring me Tora Sango. But you won't be able to do that as you are now."

Kikyou turned, her blue eyes shining as she stared up at him. He couldn't tell if it was from grief or happiness. "I will turn you into a vampire as well. Would you like that?"

His words made his breath tremble. He clutched Kikyou tighter, feeling so happy it was difficult to stand on his own two legs. "Yes, my lord! I would like that very, very much…"

* * *

to be continued... 


	21. The Traitors

Chapter Twenty: The Traitors

"Where have you been?" Akane asked, looking up from her cereal. Sango's uncle stood on the other side of the island in the kitchen, the newspaper spread out before him and a coffee cup pressed to his lips. Akane turned in her seat to face her best friend. "Sango?"

She bristled in anger and then smoothed in down. Sango didn't smile; that would have been a sign that she was lying. Sango simply shrugged and took the empty seat at the island. "I couldn't sleep last night," she said, telling the truth. "I went out running last night and stayed out the whole night."

Kakashi put down the coffee mug and turned a page of the newspaper. "Next time, Sango, please leave us a note. We were worried about you."

Sango couldn't argue with that logic. She lowered her head, knowing perfectly well that she _had_ caused them to worry. "Yes, Uncle."

"U… Urahara's funeral will be in two days." He closed the newspaper and picked up the coffee mug, returning to his bedroom. "I thought you two would like to know."

The door clicked slowly shut. Sango stared at it and then slumped over the island. She was worried about her uncle. All of the adults in the IBSP had been acting strangely since their headquarters had been bombed. "He hasn't been himself since Urahara die…"

Akane was staring at Sango. "Nobody has." Her pager, clipped into the waist of her pajama pants, vibrated. Akane answered it and sighed. "Work calls. I'll see you later, Sango." She gave her friend a bear hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's go get some shopping therapy tonight, shall we?"

Sango shrugged half heartedly. "Sure."

"Okay. And try to cheer up, Sango!"

Sango didn't really feel like cheering up…

* * *

Akane was always nervous when she went to go and see Ichigo and Rukia. She liked Rukia very much, but Ichigo frightened her just a little bit. Both of them looked perfectly human, but sometimes Ichigo's masked slip and she saw what was lying underneath the serious, brown-eyed mask. It was like he was so strong he had two distinct personalities. The human-looking serious part that controlled his emotions and his power and that loved his wife, and the part that took over whenever he was in danger. 

She gulped as she jumped down to the morgue level from the pathway cleared through the debris. Strange light patterns cut up the floor from the damage done all around them, but the room was still mostly intact. "Hello?"

Akane jumped when the light shifted. Someone had turned on a light. She saw the illuminated faces of Rukia, Ichigo and Sesshoumaru: the three oldest and strongest demons in the IBSP. All that was missing was Urahara.

Rukia smiled at her. "Akane-chan. Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Wha… what's everyone doing here?" she asked. There was nothing to sit on in the room, except for the metal dissection table. Akane nearly ran away at the very idea of having to sit on that cold, strange table. Rukia motioned towards it again and Akane reluctantly hopped up. All she could think about was the three of them forcing her down and then cutting her open, like Rezo had to Miroku. Akane gulped. "Is this… some type of an inquisition?"

"No," Rukia laughed lightheartedly. It made Akane feel a little better. "The three of us have been talking. We've figured out a way to send Shabranigdo back to the astral plane, where he can't hurt us. The only problem is that we need to figure out a way to get him where we want him, in a place where we can't hurt anybody else with the spell."

"But… why are you talking to me? I don't have a way to do anything like that! I'm, I'm not strong or anything! All I can do is levitate stuff! What did you want me to do? Levitate Kagome's body to the middle of a farmer's field or something!"

Ichigo gently patted her shoulder. His hand was heavy and a little curt. It reminded Akane of the way she'd seen big brothers snap their little sisters back into place when they got out of hand. There was nothing mean, rude or hurtful about it, but it was commanding nonetheless. "Calm down, Akane. We're talking to you because you know what Rukia and I are."

"No, I don't! I mean… I mean, I've _suspected_ a lot, but nothing's been confirmed."

If Rukia hadn't been the one to respond, Akane might not have been able to answer. She'd be too fearful of furious retribution from Sesshoumaru or Ichigo. "And what have you suspected, Akane?"

"Well… from everything I've been able to piece together from various sources, the people who were heading the effort to destroy Shabranigdo all those centuries ago were his twin, the Lord of Sunlight, and his sister, the Lady of the Moon… though they are known by different names. They knew that they'd never be able to destroy Shabranigdo completely, but they found a way to seal him away in the astral plane where he could not make people in his image, even if his influence now and again touched the mortal realm. It required a sacrifice, and the Lady went into the astral plane as well to keep Shabranigdo from breaking through.

"Then after several hundred years had gone by, after Shabranigdo's power had been sufficiently weakened by a lack of worship, the Sun-Lord performed a ceremony to call back his sister and his lover, the Lady of the Moon. The sacrifice was that he lost all his mobility: he was bound to the spot on which he had performed the ceremony. That was easy enough to learn. It's in the books in our library. What was entirely guessing, though, was fitting what Rukia-sama and Ichigo-sama had told me two years ago. Rukia had been locked away somewhere, and Ichigo called her back, and as a result he was no longer leaving the walls of the IBSP."

The three demons looked at each other, and they smiled a little. Rukia straightened her back proudly. "I told you guys that Akane was one smart cookie."

"True," Ichigo smiled, leaning down to Akane's level. He proudly ruffled her hair. It was one of his nice, happy smiles which hint at the pride she saw in him when he affectionately tousled her short hair. "You only got one part wrong, little sleuth."

"And which part was that?"

"I'm not bound to the spot on which I had summoned Rukia all those decades before, but the building in which I had done the ceremony. Of course, back then it wasn't the IBSP, but it became so over time. And now that the building is down, the spell has been revoked and I am free to go wherever I want."

"Then that's why you're finally able to do the spell! You can go to where Shabranigdo is and do the same ceremony again, can't…" Akane cut off before she finished the word. What was she doing, asking them to do the ceremony again? It would mean that once again one of them would be locked away in the astral plane, and remain there until Shabranigdo was so tired from fighting to get back to earth that he gave up. "You can't do that again!"

Rukia shook her head. "It's the only way. There is no way to kill Shabranigdo. Once Kagome's body dies, she will simply jump into another human body and dominate it. The only way to force her back into her original body is to kill Miroku and complete the ceremony, and that is not an option. Therefore, while she is in Kagome's body, when we have her bound to a spot, we must send her being back to the astral plane."

"But…"

Ichigo smiled patiently. "Akane, put it out of your mind. Rukia and I are ageless. We are older than the sun and moon, and even when those things have faded and crumbled to dust, we will still maintain our essence. Your ancestors were by no means foolish when they called us gods; they were simply misinformed."

Akane nodded and stared up at the three faces: Rukia and Ichigo's shining with love for one another, and Sesshoumaru's contemplative expression. "But why am I here, sirs?"

"Because we need somebody to gather the things we need. We trust you. You knew just who Ichigo and I are, and yet you did not tell anyone."

"We believe," said Sesshoumaru, "that the attack on the IBSP was aimed at killing Rukia, Ichigo, Urahara, and myself. Since we have not emerged from the basement of this building and the attacks have stopped, we can only assume we were correct. You are the only person, besides Rin, who knows that we are still alive. We will not emerge until the ceremony is ready, and so we need some human to get it ready for us. Rukia selected, and I agreed to, you."

Akane nervously nodded, and as she did that it became more emphatic. She wanted Shabranigdo gone as much as the others did. They listed out the supplies that they would need. Akane knew it would take time to track down everything, but it wasn't impossible to retrieve the things they needed.

"There is one other thing, Akane," the white-haired demon said. "You must not speak of us to anyone. As far as anyone else knows, we died in the attack. When we feel it is necessary to employ the help of someone else, we will contact them." His gold eyes narrowed. "Not even your partner, Sango."

"Not even Sango?" Akane could not imagine keeping a secret from Sango.

"Not even Sango," Rukia nodded.

Ichigo shook his head sadly. "She has not been herself since Miroku vanished and Urahara died. Leave her to her grief and give her time to heal right now."

"Yes, sir."

After Akane was safely out of hearing shot, Rukia turned up to Sesshoumaru. "Do you think that anyone else knows Miroku is with Shabranigdo now? Would he contact anyone, like Sango, or his parents?"

"No. I don't think he would, especially not after I specifically told him not to." He shook his long silver hair, making sure that it had not tangled, before he squared his shoulders and straightened to his full height. "Miroku believes he is a double agent. He has informed us of where Kikyou's base is. I have sent agents to try and recover Merle and Van so that they will not become victims when we attack the base."

Rukia sighed and shook her head. "I know. I just… I wish that we could get Miroku out of there too."

Sesshoumaru's thin lips were tight as he responded, "We can't. The spell will remove anyone tainted by Kikyou's curse, even if Miroku is on our side, and I question that. Shabranigdo has never much enjoyed physical torture, but mental and emotional. As a vampire, Miroku's empathy would only be increased. It would be that much more painful to be put through Kikyou's visions or 'punishments' for him. I don't know how long Miroku will be able to remain Miroku. That is why it is so imperative that we act quickly, before he turns on us and informs Kikyou that we know where she is hiding and we are still alive.

"Besides," he added, "the portal can only be closed with a sacrifice. Rukia wasn't enough last time. I don't think that she'll be enough this time. Miroku was their intended sacrifice two years ago. It is possible that only his blood will close the door to the astral plane. He is, after all, part astral himself thanks to his empathy. We should look upon his vampirism as a blessing. We will no longer be killing a human being, but killing a vampire and helping to protect the humans we swore to protect all those millennia ago. We will therefore be fulfilling our divine duty."

Ichigo was quiet as Rukia gently touched Sesshoumaru's arm. He jumped at the touch. "Seshsoumaru-sama… I am glad that we have you to play the part of our chess master. I could not manipulate the board as easily as you do. Thank you for doing what I fear to."

For a moment, just a moment, it looked as though he might have blushed. He bowed his head politely. "It warms my heart to hear that from you, m'lady. May I also say, m'lady, that I will miss you."

Rukia's bottom lip shook as she lifted his chin to see her face to face. "I will miss you as well, Sesshoumaru-sama."

* * *

Miroku's stomach growled. His hand shook as he rolled up his sleeve, bearing his forearm. As his stomach growled again, Miroku bit down on his own arm for the second time that day. He felt his own blood pour into his mouth, burning his tongue. The taste was revolting, but Miroku could feel the hunger roaring in his stomach settle down, if only for the moment. He stopped, licking the puncture wounds clean, before collapsing against his bed. 

His dark hair clung to his forehead with sweat. Maybe every one was dead. Maybe that was why he had been locked in his room for four days without any food. Miroku didn't know how much more he could take. For a little while, on the first day, he had simply talked to himself. He had sworn that he would not like Kikyou get to him. The second day he had given in to his increasing anger and had kicked, bashed, and thrown things at the wall, trying to get attention from someone. He was well aware of the small security camera keeping an eye on his actions.

On the third day he had given up retaliating. The hunger was too great. Miroku was sure he was going insane with hunger; he was sure that he was going to die.

* * *

Suichiro dropped the body to greedily lick the blood running down from his chin. Kikyou watched his greed with hungry eyes. Unlike Miroku, Suichiro had no problem with devouring human blood. He had just awoken from the change, and he had drunk two and a half bodies before his initial hunger had been satiated. 

She wrapped her arms around him, purring in delicious contentment and kissing his cheek. "You are a man in my true image, Suichiro."

He chuckled deeply and turned in her arms. His sculpted mouth was still stained red with blood. "Do you want to try out this new body in bed? I bet that I'd be able to surprise you." His supple tongue licked the tip of her ear and he felt her shiver in delight.

"Not yet." Kikyou managed to unwind herself from his arms, still smiling. "Miroku has been on his own these past two days while you were changed. He needs to be fed."

"What are you going to feed the poor buffoon?" Suichiro dryly asked. He pushed the dead body off of the bed. It landed with a thud, but it was no longer obtrusive.

His question made Kikyou pause. Her tongue slowly came out from twixt her soft lips to wet them as the thought. "You know…" Her blue suddenly shone with intensity. "You know, Suichiro, that now that Urahara, my darling siblings and the captain of their guard are all dead, we really don't have a use for Van anymore." She turned to face him, a smile on her face. It was as warm as her voice was cold and sweet. "I'm going to give him Merle."

* * *

Sango did not know what to do. It had taken her a long time to come to the conclusion she did. 

Part of her knew that she couldn't tell the other IBSP members what had happened to Miroku. If they found out he was now a vampire, she feared that they would kill him on the spot without question. He was the enemy now, but Sango didn't believe that. She didn't _want_ to believe that. Her mind kept thinking back to racing with him over the forest ground, feeling his fingers brush her fur as they barreled through the forest together in a hunt. She kept thinking of the way they had both killed together, dined together, and made love while satiated in the woods.

Even though she'd only done it once before, it had still been the best sex that she had ever had. She wanted to do it again. She wanted him, now more than ever. Before the human part of Sango, the rational and the emotional part, had wanted Miroku. Now even the carnal part of her wanted him. It pained her that when Urahara had died, she'd been consumed with thoughts of Miroku, some of them trickling from her mind to between her legs, making her feel burning.

It was just after Urahara's funeral, a headstone set into an empty grave, that Sango made up her mind. She wouldn't let Miroku die too. Not after she'd worked hard to save his life for the past two years. She wasn't about to let her friend and her lover die just because some astral bitch got between them. If there was a way to save Miroku, then Sango had to try and take it and hope for the best.

She marched up to the IBSP with her briefcase in her tight hand and wearing her favorite business suit: plain brown with an orange-red blouse underneath. Her favorite gun was tucked between her arm and her body in a shoulder sling. Her hair was done up in a tight ponytail, and underneath her sunglasses, her red lips were in a firm line of determination. She felt like the old Tora Sango had been resurrected: and she was ready to take the IBSP by storm.

For a moment the sight of the old building daunted her. She had heard what had happened to it, but she hadn't thought that it would be so bad. Could anything have survived?

She walked into the pile of rubble. Cleaning crews were still clearing debris, leaving the large half-fallen walls and revealed metal struts of the building up. It had turned into a kind of cavernous labyrinth. Recognizing one of the workers as a janitor from the building she tapped the demon on his shoulder. A human face turned to see her.

"Where can I find Sesshoumaru?"

The man's face plummeted. "I'm sorry, but he… he didn't make it."

"Bullshit."

"No, I mean… He really didn't make it."

Sango's arm whipped out. She grabbed the man by his collar and, at the last minute, decided not to slam the man up against the metal strut behind him to interrogate him. The man seemed to whole-heartedly believe that Sesshoumaru was dead.

"Fine. Believe what you want. The man is frozen ice and I seriously doubt that something as minor as this could have killed him. He's like a cockroach. Cut off his head and the bastard still won't die. Do you mind if I have a look around?" The man nervously shook his head.

Pulling off her glasses as she plunged into the darkness, Sango let her nose be her guide. She pushed away the scent of feces and decay from bodies still buried in the rubble. All of them, she surmised, had been killed in the actual fall. With the superior sense of the demons, anyone who had been left alive and trapped in the rubble had already been carried out. It wasn't until she got near the elevator shafts that she could pick up Sesshoumaru's scent. It was faint, but it was still alive. Sango began climbing down.

She found it funny that she found him on the morgue level. Sango dusted of her suit and fixed her ponytail. The sound alerted him to her presence and he spun around on her. For a moment, it was a sight Sango had never thought possible: his eyes had widened slightly in surprise.

"Sesshoumaru, we need to talk."

"Who told you I was down here?" he demanded sternly. He had recovered quickly from his surprise.

Sango shrugged. "No one. I could smell you down here. Don't worry. It was very faint. Unless someone was as determined as I was, I think they would have thought the smell was old, but I know you better than that." She slung her suitcase up to the metal slab of a dissection table, extracted a manilla envelop. Sango tossed it to him. "We need to talk."

"What…" He opened up the envelop and pulled it out. He stared at it, apparently confused. "A request for a pardon?"

"It's not for me. It's for Miroku. I've filled it all out for him. Everything is also copied in triplicate, and I happen to have several more copies tucked safely away in case anything should happen to the one you have there. The truth of the matter is that Miroku was turned unwillingly by Kikyou into a vampire." She noted that this didn't seem to surprise him. "Miroku has not killed a human being. He has not tasted human blood, and he can survive on animal blood. I want him to be pardoned and for him to _not_ be shot one sight because he was turned against his will."

Sesshoumaru closed the envelope and tossed the contents of it back to her. "I don't think that's possible."

"And, with all do politeness, why the fuck not, _sir_?"

His eyes turned the burning color of molten gold for a moment. His gaze was stern as he replied, "Because Miroku is now a creature bred for the sole purpose of devouring humans. Even though he has not done so yet, he will do so eventually. It is in their very nature."

"It's not in Miroku's nature! Miroku isn't like that, and you damn well know it!"

"Think of him like a tame wolf: all it takes is one taste and he will want it again and again." He shook his head. "I am sorry to hear that you first lost Urahara and now Miroku. He is as good as dead, Sango, and a traitor to the IBSP."

"But it wasn't his _choice_!" Her words reverberated off the plaster walls.

"His nature is now traitorous. We demons, those who do not swear allegiance to Shabranigdo, have sworn to protect the human race. Miroku is now a vampire…"

"But he still doesn't swear loyalty to Shabranigdo! You're still condemning an innocent man to death! You above all as a demon yourself should know that it is not nature that defines but by our actions, and…"

SLAM!

His hand came down upon the dissection table with such force that it dented it. "Tora Sango, this is _not_ a mater open to discussion. Miroku _is_ a vampire, and therefore _is_ a traitor and an enemy. Your orders are to shoot him the next time you see him." Her jaw dropped, but he would not be swayed by the horror he saw in her eyes. "Disobey your orders, and your actions will be siding with Shabranigdo. This matter is closed. We will not harbor traitors; we will not harbor vampires. Do I make myself clear? …I said: do I _make myself clear?_"

She hung her head and grabbed her briefcase. "Perfectly."

* * *

Sango had arranged everything by that evening. She wrote off a letter to Akane, shedding only a few tears over it. There was a large chance that Sango wouldn't be coming back after her final mission, but she welcomed it with open arms. It was only the idea of leaving behind the people she loved that made her regret the possibility of her own death. 

A second latter went to Fuu and Ferio, because Sango felt that they had a right to know what had happened to their son.

She dressed in comfortable black clothes. She put what she could into a knapsack, trying to get as many things as she could accessible without being noisy or constricting to her movement. A pair of black slippers from Akane's dojo went on: quiet, and durable. Her shirt, she realized, would be a little too hot, but she wanted it because of the hood. Drawn low it would hide the majority of her face. Lastly, she put her hair up into a tight ponytail, wincing as she bound it with a hair band, to tuck it under the hood of her shirt.

It didn't take Sango very long to drive to the demolition site. There was no one there at night. The once breath-taking building was now a pile of rubble casting deeper shadows under shadows. The fetid smell she had been aware of early was even more obvious without the scent of the workers or their equipment, yet it was less unnerving. The smell of decaying bodies did not belong in the daylight.

Her eyes adjusted easily to the darkness. Sango reached the elevator shaft and began to climb down. Her fingers sunk into the cracks left in the cement and her feet found holes which no one else might have located without her superior senses and her sheer determination.

Slowly but surely she made her way down: down passed the morgue, down passed the bond level, and down to the detention level. The metal elevator doors were stuck half-open, allowing people access to the 'fresh' air above.

Sango's black outfit stood out against the white walls painfully. She swung her body so that the doors gave her some cover, and drew her gun. Some detached part of her mind was a little surprised that her fingers weren't shaking. That was a good sign, she supposed. It would make her shots clearer.

Sango aimed at the lights on the ceiling. The gun went off without barely a sound and the nearest light bulb suddenly burst out. Sango listened closely to the guards. Had they noticed?

"Hey, Hojo?"

"What is it?"

"We got a burnt out light bulb. Do we have any replacements down on this level?"

The guard named Hojo gave some answer. Sango was already leaning over. The second light bulb went out. Sango holstered the gun and went before one of the guards could come to investigate. She was barely visible as she ran down the corridor, her feet noiseless. She was able to reach the light switch. Almost; almost there!

One of the guards came around the corner. Sango cursed and dove for the lights. Her hand came down so hard she knew she'd get bruises. All the lights in the detention level went off. It was plunged into darkness. The guard cried out in surprise. He was blind, but Sango could still see.

She drew her gun again and grabbed the man by his shoulder. There was a cracking sound as she brought the butt to the man's head. His body went slack. Sango didn't think she had applied enough force to kill him, and she couldn't smell any blood. She just wanted to incapacitate him. Had he been one of the guards she'd seen beating Inuyasha before, she would have put a bullet in his kneecap without a second thought.

Grabbing the security key hanging from the guard's belt she ran down the dark corridor. Her eyesight could still pick up Inuyasha's shimmering hair. Their eyes met, even in the darkness.

"You said that you can find Kagome, right?" she asked.

Inuyasha nodded. "Yeah, I can find her. I can track her down no problem, but not while I'm in this hell hole." His eyes widened when she held up the key card. "I'm listening."

"Take me to where Kagome is. You can find Kagome. I want Miroku. Afterwards, we come back here and you can be locked up again—this time, with Kagome. She'll still be Shabranigdo, but we can find a way to draw the demon out of her, and at least this way you can keep tabs on her. It might afford Kagome some sanity to know that you're there seeing her through it."

He lowered his head as he remembered what Sango had said two years ago. The jail at the IBSP was heaven compared to sharing a body with Shabranigdo. "I have to admit it's not a perfect offer, but if it means I can stretch my legs and get Kagome back, you have my help."

Sango nodded. She went to the cell next to them. "Edward? Edward?"

He sleepily lifted his head. Sango couldn't see him in the bed until she realized that he had been hiding under it. The mattress held a fluffy white bunny. Without a cage, he had set the bunny on the bed while he'd slept on the floor to keep the bunny from running a way and getting zapped accidentally by the bars. "Fuu?"

"No. It's me. Sango."

His face scrunched up as he tried to remember her. "The girl with the ponytail."

"That's right."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to make a deal. You want Kikyou, right? You want revenge?" She saw that all of a sudden he looked more alert. "I can help you land a blow against her, but I need to know that you won't lose control, okay? Fuu mentioned in hrr report that you were a teleporter. We could use your skills, but I need you to be a hundred and fifty percent sure that you can do this. If you snap on me, I have no problem subduing you."

He finished crawling out from under the bed. "Fuu knows she's supposed to take care of Alice if I don't come back." For a moment there was the flash of that rare insanity he possessed: the child-like quality. Then he straightened and fixed his tattered shirt, flipping his braid over his shoulder. The bangs that framed his face accented his resolute expression. "I'm ready."

Sango unlocked the cages: Inuyasha's first, and then Edward's. Someone struck her when she reached Edward's. Sango hadn't noticed that the other guard had returned. Before she could retaliate, Inuyasha lunged on him. His eyes glowed red as he threw him into the wall. The guard wasn't quite unconscious yet. Inuyasha kicked him in the stomach, and in the groin. As he was clutching himself, curling up into a protective ball, Inuyasha's bare foot connected with the man's nose, and then his jaw.

"How do you like it? Huh? How do you like being kicked until you black out?"

"Inuyasha!"

"How? How? Had enough yet? Do you…" He stopped when it felt the cool metal of a gun's nozzle touch the back of his neck. Inuyasha froze, his ears flickering and his nose moving up and down as he sniffed the air.

Sango's voice was stern. "Kick that man one more time and I will send your brain into the wall you see in front of you." Inuyasha knew she meant it. He gulped when he heard the safety click off. "I did not release you for revenge. This is a rescue mission. If you don't think you can keep yourself from lashing out, I'll drop you here and now rather than fight to put you back in your cell. It's your choice."

"It's not much of one…" Sango saw the fight go out of his body. He meekly turned and scowled at her with all the venom of a chastised child. "Let's go."

* * *

Standing across the street from the locked building, Sango could still smell the sickly sweet sense of incense and sex. Her nose wrinkled at the offensive scent. "Okay," she said, turning to Inuyasha. "Where to know?" 

Inuyasha's head turned left and then right. Beside him, Edward was beginning to look agitated, as if he had been there before. Sango took it as a sign that they were on the right trail. She watched the doctor's nose twitch as he sniffed out his wife. She was becoming irritated that it was taking so long. Didn't Inuyasha understand that she was now a wanted criminal herself? Every car that drove by made her jump, fearing that it belonged to the IBSP. As fast as she could she had to locate Miroku, rescue him, and then they both had to go into hiding.

It wasn't the best sounding life, but it would be with him, and that was all Sango cared about.

Finally, Inuyasha growled. He pointed straight down. "Kagome is somewhere beneath us."

Sango wanted the shoot something. "The _sewers_?"

"No. Inuyasha's right. I remember… the place she uses is underground, but it's not in the sewer system. There's a large underground cavern system beneath us. I don't know if it's natural or if she had it made, but that'd what she uses. It runs underneath a large portion of the city." He stretched out his hands. "I can teleport us into the heart of it."

Sango nodded. "Do it."

His hand closed around her shoulder; Ed grabbed Inuyasha with his other hand. Her stomach lurched violently as everything around her vanished with a pop. She could still feel his hand on her shoulder, but everything hurt. Sango tried to take a breath, but found she couldn't. Her chest wouldn't contract. Everything _hurt_…

There was a second pop. Suddenly she found she could breath again. Sango gasped for air as the colors coalesced into forms. They were underground, but it barely felt like that. There was a couch, and pretty furnishings, complete with a large rug which cushioned the rock floor.

Sango drew her firearm and screwed in the silencer. Then she turned off the safety. If they met anybody, Sango was going to ensure that they were silenced and effectively. Then she passed the gun to Inuyasha, and her back up to Edward. "You both know how to use these, don't you?"

Edward took his nervously; Inuyasha stared at her like she was insane. "You realize you are handing over your gun to a convicted felon, don't you?"

"Yes, I realize that," she frowned, pressing the gun into his hand. "Thank you for pointing out for me the obvious. This will be much quieter than you tearing people through with your claws. Unless you'd prefer to use the sword." Sango reached behind her jacket and drew out a short sword. It was a foot and a half long and gracefully curved, easily hidden under her long jacket. Sango shrugged off the jacket and left it stuffed under the couch.

Inuyasha looked between the two weapons. "No, I like this."

Sango's smile was grim as she cracked her wrist and knuckles. "Great. Let's do this then."

With Inuyasha directing them via his acute senses and Sango in the lead, they managed to work their way through the facility without meeting too many people. When they did, Sango sent their heads rolling before they had a chance to scream. If they were human, she simply knocked them out. Then it was a matter of hiding the bodies before they continued. She felt nothing at knowing that two vampires and a werewolf were now laying dead in some closet because of her swift sword. She concentrated solely on getting back Miroku.

Rounding a corner, there was no warning when a gun went off. Sango swore and jumped back, her arm stinging. She could feel her warm blood running down her arm from the gunshot. Edward was there immediately, touching her shoulder gently and asking if she was okay. The lashes of his wide eyes brushed her ear. Sango growled at his proximity. "I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound."

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," a familiar voice chimed. Sango stiffened. Suichiro! "Did you really think that you'd be able to sneak in here to rescue Miroku without us noticing? Isn't technology wonderful? We knew you were here since the moment you appeared in Kikyou's drawing room thanks to the security system we had installed. And a teleportationist! That's such wonderful news." He laughed. Whatever men he had with him took his cue and joined in.

There was a heavy sound, a dull wet thud, from behind Sango. It was fallowed by another loud thump. Edward's breath disappeared from the back of her neck. As she turned to see what had happened, she felt cold metal pressing into the side of her head. Sango did not like the sensation of having her own gun pressed threateningly against the side of her head.

"Throw down the weapon."

Cursing Inuyasha in every way she knew how, Sango threw the weapon into the intersection of the hallway. It clattered against the rock floor and skittered to a stop. When he saw it, Suichiro arched an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I want to talk," Inuyasha called out, ignoring Sango as she fumed. He pressed the gun harder into her hair, silencing her for the moment. "Sango's unnarmed. I just want to talk."

"Come out where we can see you."

Inuyasha looked down at Sango. Her lips were in a tight line and she was glaring straight ahead as she was unable to see him. "Step out, Sango."

"You rotten bastard…"

"I said: _step out_."

Sango did as she was told. She stepped out into the hallway, the gun never leaving her head. She had seen what happened to bodies shot from such proximity. She could survive a bullet in the stomach or lung, maybe, but not the head. Sango closed her eyes and swallowed her nausea when she thought of that gun going off and the mess it would make on the walls around her… She also closed her eyes to hold off seeing Suichiro. When she opened them, she found that he was smiling.

It wasn't a nice smile. It was lecherous, without the love, devotion or heartfelt amusement and excitement that made Miroku's lecherous smile so damn appealing. His eyes moved from her head from her toes, lingering on the curves of her hips, breasts, and lips. Sango's back stiffened when she realized that as much as he may look human, he was no longer such.

"Nice to see you again, Sango."

She glared at him. "Bite me."

Suichiro licked his lips hungrily. It was a sufficient answer. Sango sneered when she realized that was exactly what he longed to do. "Inuyasha, what exactly is it that you want?"

"My wife."

"Ah…" Suichiro nodded his head. "Kagome is not exactly here right now. My lady had to leave to take care of some unfinished business. She _is_ worshipped, you know. She'll be back down in just a few minutes. I think we can arrange for you to see your little wife, providing of course that you have some gift to offer her."

Inuyasha smiled. He was leaning against the wall, the gun against Sango's head while he was still safely hidden from the weapons of Shabranigdo's followers by the corner of the hallway. There was not a trace of insanity in that smile. Why should there be? Sango very much suspected that it had all been a ploy to gain pity or throw off suspicion, and that it had backfired. Sango may have trusted him more because he seemed to have been so clearly not planning anything, but Sesshoumaru would not allow him out when he lacked restraint.

"I propose a trade, Suichiro. Tora-san here was the one who Shabranigdo originally had as a body. She was your original sacrifice. She can take Sango's body, for all I care. In return, she gives up my wife's permanently."

Sango's skin felt cold at the offer. Only the burning barrel of the gun kept her from trying to fight her way out. She licked her lips, repulsed when she noticed that Suichiro watched her with growing interest and intensity. There was something in the way he was _staring_ at her which made Sango recoil and withdraw into herself.

"You fucking son of a bitch," she hissed at Inuyasha. "You had this planned all along, didn't you?"

"I'd love to say I did, but really, it was just something that had occurred to me. Sorry Sango. I know you hated being Shabranigdo's lap dog, but Kagome's been doing it for over two years. At this point, I'll do anything to get that fat toad out of her. You understand, don't you, tiger?"

"You're not blind anymore, are you?"

He smiled. It was wide enough to reveal the gums of his fangs. "Quite miraculously, no. After that poor little incident involving your friend Urahara and the plane, my eyesight was suddenly returned to me. Never even bothered to think about why I could follow you so easily, did you? You all assume that because of these fucking ears, it must be my demonic senses, forgetting that I'm still half human. My senses aren't nearly that good. That goes to show you what presumption does."

Inuyasha brought down the gun on the back of Sango's head. She heard another of the heavy, wet thumps. She noticed Edward's body laying unconscious on the floor, blood pooling from a cut on his head. The ground rushed up at her before she could stop herself from falling. There was a second thump as her head hit the floor. The last thing she saw was Suichiro's smirk before everything was sucked into the black pitch of unconsciousness.

Suichiro did not bother to take the gun from Inuyasha. He figured that it would be a sign of cooperation to leave the man armed. Kikyou, of course, was away, inhabiting another body as his 'worship' required. Kagome's body was locked in the brig, but they didn't need to know that. He had better things to do at the moment then to barter with Inuyasha, however. Sango's body would recover quickly from being knocked unconscious. He needed to restrain her and quickly.

Walking over to her still body, Suichiro's palms itched to touch her. He brushed his hand over her hair as he checked to see how bad her wounds were. She smelled wonderful, exactly as he remembered. She was still beautiful: the curves of her soft lips, the pert turn to her nose, the delicate curves of her slightly-pointed ears… He could hear her blood pumping. His lips throbbed with the desire to drink. As it was, his hands were meandering of their own accord under the pretense of checking her safety. He could not drink from her. He would wait…

He had waited faithfully for so long for Shabranigdo to have the body she so rightly deserved. Surely she would not be against Suichiro enjoying himself first. His hand slipped from her shoulder to the hem of her shirt, slowly working his fingers under it. The skin of her stomach was warm and taught. His hand arched higher and…

"I don't think that's really necessary." Inuyasha was staring down at him. Suichiro quickly withdrew his hand, glaring back at Inuyasha for having ruining his amusement.

"No, I suppose not." He straightened and fixed his shirt. "Take her and the other one to the brig. I will take Inuyasha back to the drawing room. When my lady has returned, tell her to meet us there."

* * *

Miroku was starving. He had pressed himself into the corner of his little bedroom, pressing his flushed cheek against the cool wall and trying to think of anything else he could. He tried daydreaming, but that always brought up Sango and the hunt, except that in his dreams, he was chasing Sango and not the deer. He tried to think of school, or chores, his job and his family, but it was impossible for his thirst not to get the better of him. 

The heavy door cranked open. His head shot up and his crazed eyes stared at the door. He could feel his fangs strike his lips. Was it food? Were they finally bringing him food? God, he was so _hungry_!

"Get in there!"

"No! No! You can't make me! I don't want to go!"

There were the sounds of fighting. Miroku recognized the younger, female voice, but he couldn't place it. He was already recoiling. Live food. They were bringing him live, _humanoid_ food, not warmed goat's blood. He couldn't! He didn't kill humans! Miroku's nails scratched a layer of paint from the wall as he tried to keep himself pressed against it.

"Daddy! Daddy! Take me to my father you son of a whoring bitch! Daddy!"

He heard someone enter and the door slammed shut. There was a sound of someone sniffling. The room was dark. Window-less, it was lit by only one solitary candle. Miroku was breathing heavily. He could hear her blood pounding in her body. It was some time before he heard the voice speak again.

"M… Miroku-sama?"

He looked up at his name and cursed himself. He could see in that darkness. He could see who it was. Merle. Dear God, it was _Merle_.

She smiled and ran to him throwing herself into his lap without noticing how he was shaking and hugging the wall. "Miroku! I was so worried when they told me I was going to be thrown in with a vampire!"

_Blood…_

She laughed. "But you're not a vampire, are you Miroku-sama?"

_Dear Gods in Heaven, the _blood…

Her smile was bright and friendly. "You'd never hurt me, would you, Miroku-sama?"

_Blood!_

* * *

_To be continued._


	22. The Rescue

Chapter Twenty-One: The Rescue

Something hard, cold, and slightly damp was pressed against Sango's cheek. Her head hurt. The cool was nice against the warmth of her skin and the itch of the blood she felt matted into the roots of her hair. She would have liked it more except for the hardness. It was making her cheek hurt.

Someone whimpered. Sango opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. Hazy black spots bloomed and then closed in her vision, dancing along in pattern-less lines. The blackness of her eyes almost overtook the color, just like a cat's, as they widened to refract the tiniest particles of light they could. Slowly, they adjusted to see Edward Elric, his blond hair matted with blood just as hers was, huddling the corner of a cell. Sango wearily tried to push herself up, finding her hands shackled together.

"Edward? What is it?"

Before he could answer someone turned the lights on. Sango cursed loudly, snapping her eyelids shut as she winced from the light. The black dots were replaced by a blinding white haze. Sango lifted her hand to rub her suddenly burning eyes, and stopped when she remembered the dampness of the floor. It was probably from mold. She didn't want to rub mold in her eyes. That wouldn't help the situation.

"Sango, Sango, Sango…"

She froze at the sound of the voice and the low, clucking sound of pity and contempt following it. Sango felt goose bumps flourish along her arms and the hair raise on the back of her neck. It had been ages since she had heard Kagome's voice, but this was not the soft, dulcet voice she remembered. This was harsh and flirtatious and, to sum it up effectively, evil. It was laced with pure evil. There was no hint of remorse or compassion, just pride and greed.

Her eyes slowly opened, adjusted to the new source of light. Sango didn't want to turn and look at the sound of her voice, but she found herself doing it anyway. A sound of fear, like the squeak of a mouse, somehow escaped between her frozen lips. Kagome—no, Kikyou now—smiled when she heard it.

The other woman stood on the other side of the cage. She was leaning against it, her long hair flowing down around her and a smile hanging cruelly from her face. The sense of pleasure looming in her eyes made Sango suddenly understand why Edward was cowering, trying to keep back the insanity and find a spot of sanity left in his mind, sheltering himself from reality. Reality was not desirable when faced with Kikyou.

For Sango, however, she felt herself slipping into something she had never actually experienced before. She had been so scared when Kikyou had taken over her mind. She had been so sure that she had dealt with it. She had been so sure that she had gotten over the fear. She had denied all the nightmares where her hands were slipped around Akane's neck, choking the life out of her. She had denied all the times she had imagined seeing Kakashi or Urahara dead, and all because of her. She had denied the dreams where Miroku's body was under hers, chained to a bed, as she took from him any and all kind of pleasure, knowing that the man she loved was in pain and she was helpless to stop it.

She tried to pretend she didn't shudder whenever she thought of being called 'Firefly'. She tried to pretend she didn't hear whispers of that ancient, masculine voice in the back of her mind. She tried to pretend a lot of things, but they were all pretend. Nothing she could have done could have prepared her for the real thing, for knowing that Shabranigdo was right there, and that all he had to do was touch her and he'd be able to slip inside her body…

Kikyou smiled. "I see you haven't forgotten about me. I haven't forgotten about you, either, Firefly."

Sango's body began to shake. She was frozen to the spot as Kikyou opened the cell door and walked inside. Just to mock her, she left the cell door swinging wide open. Sango could have made it out if she could only find the courage to stand and run. Nothing she could think of would make her legs work, though. Not even thinking about Miroku. Not even her fear of hurting Kakashi. Not even knowing that this was the person responsible for killing her precious Urahara, feeling blinding hatred and anger surge inside of her, thick and hot, could make Sango stand. Not while those unholy blue eyes kept her locked on the floor.

Kikyou knelt in front of Sango. She reached a hand and Sango finally found the courage to move. She slapped the hand away. "Don't touch me!"

Anger blazed over Kiykou's face, distorting her seductive features for a moment. She composed herself quickly and grabbed Sango's chin with her other hand, jerking Sango's chin to make her look her in the eyes. Her voice was a silken purr. "Firefly, that was very mean of you. Is this how you welcome back your precious lover?"

Something began blurring her thoughts, distorting them. Sango mentally and physically fought back, but it wasn't enough. All of the training and the planning was lost in sheer panic as Shabranigdo began to force himself into her body. She could sense the foreign thoughts, so much older and more powerful than her own, began to push her own back into the far corners of her mind.

Then, without warning, Shabranigdo drew back. Sango found that the wall was pressing into her back, sharp chips of rock drawing blood as they dug into her shoulders. Kikyou's hand was clamped tightly around her neck and Sango had to hang off of a deceptively weak looking wrist to keep from choking. Kikyou was mad: her blue eyes crackled with lighting, the same furious force making her long hair waver from the increased chi.

"Who in the fuck made you pregnant?"

_Pregnant_? Sango gasped to speak. "No one."

"Don't give me that shit!" she snapped. Kikyou slammed Sango back into the wall, making the half-shifter cough. "I can sense a second person when I go into your mind. I can feel the child growing within you. Now, whose is it?"

"I'm not…"

Kikyou hissed. "Fine. Stubborn little Firefly, I'll just take the information from your mind." She had never tried taking over a body so crowded, but Shabranigdo knew that there would be room for her. After all, she would be going into Sango's mind, and though the child would always be close, the thoughts just out of reach from her psychic abilities, he would be able to remain whole within Sango.

Hot embers seemed to dig into Sango's mind as Shabranigdo burrowed into her mind. Last time Sango had been unprepared and it had been easy to control her. Now she was fighting back, causing her mind pain and her temples to throb as she fought off the onslaught. But Shabranigdo was to strong. Sango could feel the control she had over her body slipping away. She could feel that her thoughts were still her own, but her memories were out of reach. She could not recall how Miroku smelled, or what Urahara looked like, or recall her last birthday. Her memories were in the hands of someone else. It was awful: it was a complete and total alienation from her own mind, and yet she was still capable of feeling the memories. She could feel it as Shabranigdo began to dig through them.

And Kagome was free. She fell weakly to the ground, letting Sango go. Kagome tried to run, but Sango grabbed her, smiling Shabranigdo's venomous smile. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked in Sango's voice. "We have a trade to finalize, you and I. Inuyasha is waiting after all."

Edward was still huddled, whimpering softly. Shabranigdo released Kagome, pushing her into a corner of the cell. "Stay there. Edward… oh, Edward. I've missed you. Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Stay away from me!" he shrieked.

She could sense that something was off with Edward. Something in the warning kept Shabranigdo from approaching further. She pursed Sango's lips into a thin line. "I'll come back and deal with you later, you insolent brat. Come, Kagome. We have business to attend to."

* * *

_**Sango… you are called Sango, are you not?**_

_**I am. I am Sango.**_

_**I am Shabranigdo. Once, you were Sango. Once, I was Shabranigdo. Now I am Sango. You are nothing more, Firefly.**_

_**I am Sango!**_

_**No, you are Firefly. You are like a firefly. You were once brilliant and beautiful. Now you are not, for you are nothing. You are my toy, my firefly in a jar. I can do with you as I please, and you have just as short as a lifespan. You are a firefly to me, and so I shall rename you. You shall henceforth by Firefly.**_

_**Leave me alone!**_

_**I shall do no such thing, Firefly.**_

_She stopped touching herself. She could have time to properly explore the body later, in private. Although she had no problem with the eyes affixed upon her, she wished privacy to touch and to torture Firefly. Firefly could feel everything Sango could. She could feel the hand clasped along her throat as she caressed her skin, as well as the skin of her neck as it was touched._

_She walked instead to Miroku's dying body. Blood coated his chest. She leaned over him, brushing his hair. Sango heard Firefly sob when those dark, silky locks slipped between her fingers. She ran her fingers down the lines of his face._

_**It is a pity his body is dying. He reminds me so much of his ancestor. I would have loved to have kissed him.**_

_**You leave Miroku alone!**_

_**Have you kissed him? Yes, I can read your thoughts. They are spread out before me like a book to read. He has kissed you. You liked it. You thought about doing it again. Did you dream about him? Yes, you did. Such boring dreams you have. They lack imagination. I would have liked to have kissed him. I would have liked to explore his body, to learn him. He is a beautiful man, even now. Look at his blood. You can see it. I know you can. You see everything I see. His blood is beautiful. It has set me free, and it has given you to me, Firefly. Do you know what I need to live, Firefly?**_

_Firefly sobbed. **Don't. Oh, please, please don't.** Urahara had told her. Firefly knew what Shabranigdo needed to leave. Life. He drank life, in whatever form he could: souls, sexual energy, birthing energy, dying energy… and blood._

_Sango leaned down her graceful neck. The dark hair that Miroku had always loved became tangled and matted as it brushed Miroku's blood. She opened her mouth and licked delicately at the blood pooling from Miroku's wounds. The blood lingered on her tongue, giving Sango time to taste, before she swallowed with a satisfied purr._

_Firefly sobbed again, but this one was angry. **Leave Miroku alone…**_

_**You love him, didn't you?**_

Her memories were flung at her, keeping Firefly—once known as Tora Sango—occupied while Shabranigdo fortified himself in her mind. He sighed, relaxing into place. _Even though this body is no longer virginal, I have missed it._

_Get out, _Firefly sobbed.

Sango's lips drew up into a smile. She was pulling her hair out of her tight ponytail, letting the long black hair flow free so she could feel it. In her mind, Sango began going through the most personal of Firefly's memories, replaying them over and over again. It felt to Firefly like hot embers were stabbing her mind: wriggling, diving embers.

_Miroku has been a dirty boy I see… _Sango commented dryly, flipping through Firefly's memories of their sexual history. _Isn't he an amazing creature? Such strength and will behind him, and yet he's always so afraid of using it on you. Oh, oh!_ She laughed. _This is too precious! __He really said that to you, Firefly? That he could scarcely stand making love to you? Yes, I can feel the pain at his words. He was so cruel to you and yet you still came to try and save him. You turned criminal for him._

Firefly broke down, knowing what was coming. She curled up into a tight little ball inside of her mind, sobbing mentally. She could deny nothing against Shabranigdo; she could hide nothing from those thoughts.

_You _still _love him._

_Yes,_ Firefly sobbed. She had always known that she loved Miroku. God, even when she had been kissing Urahara, she still knew that she loved Miroku. She cried now because she knew that she would never have him again. She would never have him because she had hurt him, and because Shabranigdo had taken over her body.

She suddenly clued into what else Shabranigdo could do to Miroku. How would Miroku react when he saw her? When would he clue in that she wasn't in control of her body anymore? Would he even be able to see through Shabranigdo's face to realize that it wasn't her? What if he didn't? What if he seduced her and made love to her—and Sango wasn't even there anymore?

_I'm so sorry, Miroku…_

* * *

Blood!

Miroku's body couldn't control itself anymore. He snarled, revealing glistening fangs as he leapt over the bed for the warm body on the other side of the room. Merle froze when he moved. He was reaching in to grab her when the door was thrown open. Miroku was blinded by the light from the hallway. There was a masculine voice.

"Merle?"

Merle's bright blue eyes suddenly became alive again. She smiled at the figure in the doorway, feeling her heart wrench when she saw the bloodied and half-healed wings behind him. "Van?" The light shifted and she could see his haggard face. He was dirty and weary, but the sight of the level will and determination in his brown eyes reassured more than his angelic wings ever could. "Daddy!"

She leapt for him. Van's arms wrapped around her and Merle fought to keep from crying. She had never thought that she would feel his arms around her again. His breath was warm on her hair and it shook with emotion. "She told me that she had let you go."

"That woman is a liar, Daddy. They moved me to a new cell, that's all." She lifted her head and planted a reassuring kiss on Van's cheek. Behind her, her tail whipped to and fro excitedly. "Don't worry, Daddy. They didn't hurt me or anything. I'm just fine. Just a little hungry."

Van smiled at her. "Me too, Merle."

"How did you break out?"

Van pointed behind him. "She let me out."

Behind him stood a young girl. Merle hadn't noticed her; she hadn't been able to smell or hear the girl at all. Short and slender and dressed all in black, the girl screamed stereotypical ninja. Lank hair fell around her face and her brown eyes were determined. Unlike Van's fierce protection, hers was gentler and subtler. Merle recognized her from the IBSP. "Rin."

"Rin?" Miroku's mouth didn't seem to work around his teeth. He was on all fours on the bed, listening to the conversation and breathing heavily. Ashamed of having already given into the hunger once, he didn't want to do so again.

Rin moved over so that he could see her. At once he seemed relaxed a little. His blue eyes softened and regained some sanity. "Take her out. Take them out, Rin, quickly."

"Wait one second. We're not going to leave without you, young man."

Miroku shook his head. Van was kind, but he didn't realize what he was planning on doing. He couldn't seriously release a starved vampire out. Miroku was safest where he was, where the members of the IBSP couldn't get to him. He was their enemy as much as he was their spy. Miroku had known that all along. Striking a deal and spying for Sesshoumaru would do nothing to save himself from the law. He was, by virtue of his nature, a criminal.

"You can't let a vampire out. I'm staying here."

Van put his hands on his hips. "I don't think that Hitomi would see it that way. I won't let her think less of me for not bringing you with me."

Merle tugged on his jeans to draw Van's attention. "They starved him," she whispered. Van began to understand.

Rin snorted. There was no need to translate. She had assumed they would do something like that. It was easy to coerce a vampire when they would do anything for blood. She reached around into a small knapsack which hung from her shoulders and drew out a blood pack. Miroku began to salivate. When she tossed it to him, his hands shook as he viciously tore into it, greedily slurping it down as fast as he could.

He was still hungry, but he could last. There was no longer the dying need to feed. Rin stepped forward, her wrist outstretched, but Miroku recoiled. "No. I won't drink human blood. Never." The white of his eyes were showing around the pale blue hue. He was horrified at the very idea. Miroku shook his head again. He repeated it again, as if it were a prayer or a reassurance.

With the slightest sign of approval at his resolution, Van held the door open for Miroku. "Come on. Let's get the hell out of this shit hole."

* * *

"Miroku is _where_?" Ranma asked, coming to a violent stop.

"Captured. Sango went to go and bust him out." Someone blared the horn behind them. Exasperated, Akane exhaled with enough force that her dark bangs floated for a moment. "You can apply pressure to the gas now."

Ranma snorted, accelerating as suddenly as he had stopped. "Miroku got himself captured… again. And Sango was crazy enough to think that she could actually manage to sneak into a guarded fortress of solitude and save the poor bastard?" Akane nodded beside him. "And you're tracking her with…"

She glanced over at him. "Urahara's GPS locator. The one he put into us when we all first met. There! This is where the signal has stopped. There's a parking lot back there where you can park."

"It was paid parking."

"Who cares?"

"Do you have enough change to pay?"

Akane shot him a LOOK. "Are you really going to worry about paying a toll booth when our friends are in mortal danger and we're their only hope of salvation?"

Ranma's hands were tight on the wheel. He was worried as she was. For the first time she noticed the bags under his eyes. Ranma bore his duty silently. Akane felt bad for snapping at him. She had been so busy with work that she hadn't really thought a lot about what Ranma had been doing since graduating the year before. He'd been working two jobs, running the dojo, dating her… and he had his crazy family to deal with. Then his best friend goes missing and all the bombings, the missing children…

"I'm sorry," she said meekly as he pulled into the empty parking lot.

Ranma's voice was low. "You shouldn't come in here with me."

"You can't keep me from rescuing my best friends. We've had this conversation before."

"Yeah, but I can still hope that one day you'll agree to staying home where I know you can be safe." He pretended not to notice when Akane blushed. "I just don't want whatever will be going on down there to change the way that you feel about me. I'm not going to hold back anything down there."

Akane was already hopping out of the car. There was a sack of firearms and extra clips in the back seat, as well as a long package wrapped carefully in a violet cloth. Akane was swinging the knapsack on when she looked up at him. "Neither am I, Ranma."

* * *

"Someone's coming," Ranma hissed. He pushed Akane back against the wall. It was cold and wet on her back.

"Ranma…"

"Shh!"

She growled with anger and pushed his hand away. Akane leaned in close and hissed in his ear: "Then maybe next time you should grab my shoulder and not my breast."

Ranma's cheeks burned. He had wondered when Akane had gotten so nice and soft. He had felt her body before, but it had always been in practice, where he was grabbing her shoulder in a throw, or touching her knee to repose a stance. And punching. And blocking. There was a lot of punching and blocking. It was safe to say that there were very few times where he had touched Akane and not walked away bruised.

He very suddenly wished that he could touch her more without bruises. He'd like to discover the parts that weren't hard but were warm and soft. Like her lips. They were warm and soft. He decided he should kiss her more often.

"Ranma?"

The man's eyes widened. He went perfectly still. He recognized the voice, but oh, it had changed. Miroku's voice was drained with exhaustion. He sounded old. Where was the hint of sarcasm, wit, and humor that had always laced even his most pragmatic comments?

He stepped out around the corner. "You've changed," he said. His eyes went right past Van with his broken wings and Merle supporting him to pin Miroku. His eyes took in Miroku's pale skin and his taunt look. He felt a chill he refused to acknowledge climb up his spine when Miroku turned his head and the light caught the back of his eyes, turning them iridescent violet before returning to an awkward shade of blue. His friend was no longer human and it was painfully obvious.

Miroku was beautiful. Even half-starved and white from being out of the sun, Miroku was beautiful. Ranma could tell. He found it hard to pull his eyes away from the vampire's eyes or the subtle curves of his lips. Miroku had always exuded charm before, but now he embodied it. And it was a dangerous charm. Ranma could feel that too. He was made that way to hide the weapon underneath the skin.

"You really have changed." Ranma shook his head sadly.

Miroku's body tensed. He wanted to crawl away and hide at the same time that he wanted to hug his friend and at the same time that he just wanted to collapse on Ranma and cry. He wanted his friend's acceptance. He didn't like the cold detached voice that Ranma had greeted him with. He spread his hands pleadingly. "Look, it wasn't my choice…"

Akane stepped out from around the corner in the twisted hallway. Miroku had been able to smell her there. He wanted to crawl away when her eyes assed over him and she found the same thing that Ranma had. He wasn't the same anymore. Sometimes, he felt the same, but he wasn't. There was a coldness and a cynicism building inside of him that had never been there before. It was there to protect him as he agelessly sat by and watched the world and the people he loved die and change. It was meant to prepare him for his cold-blooded nature and his immortality.

"Sango isn't with you," Akane noted.

"Why should she be?"

"Because we're here to get her out. She came here to save you."

Miroku's heart thumped loudly in his chest. "She… she did what?"

"She came here to save you," Akane repeated for him.

"But… but that's treason!" he spluttered.

Akane's eyes were hard. "We know."

Miroku began cursing under his breath. Akane didn't recognize the words, but she had a good idea of what he was saying. Miroku apparently had a fairly good grasp of Mandarin. Or at least Mandarin curses. He turned back and began walking up the way he'd come. "Rin, take Merle and Van out. We'll get Sango."

Rin didn't argue. Wisely enough, neither did Merle or Van. Akane and Ranma watched him go, a little shocked at Miroku.

They hadn't thought at all about breaking Miroku out. Akane had been too concerned with Sango, and Ranma had been hoping to avoid the question. He didn't want to see his friend in the clutches of Kikyou, but at the same time, Miroku was a vampire now. He was a danger to other innocent people. If Miroku got out…

Ranma leaned over to whisper in Akane's ear. "Let's not tell the others that we got Miroku out too. I can't do it. I can't kill my best friend."

Akane nodded.

* * *

to be continued...


	23. The Mindtrap

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Mindtrap

Sango walked down the hallway, humming to herself merrily. She had freed Inuyasha and Kagome. She didn't know where they would go, and she was rather pleased that they had not decided to remain with her in her fortress. The two of them were disgusting together. She could not stand such sweetness for long. Should their paths ever cross again, she would kill them without a second thought. But for now, it was more useful to her for them to be alive. Though they would no doubt be trying to escape the country at that very second, she knew she could track them down with little effort, and all it would take then would be a small bribe or a threat to reveal Inuyasha... _colorful _past to have another grunt, however disgruntled he may be. That situation having been resolved, Sango was looking forward to seeing Miroku.

As she drew closer to the cell, she realized she could smell blood. She sighed lovingly, fingering the bridge of her nose. It was so comforting to once again have better-than-human senses. She knew something was amiss long before she turned the corner to find the guards outside Miroku's door dead, their throats slashed. Sango's beautiful lip curled in disgust.

It came as a pleasant surprise that Miroku had not gone far. She could smell him behind her. She could also smell two more figures, and she could pull their scents and names from Firefly's mind. Akane and Ranma.

From deep inside of her there was a rolling wave of pleasure that irked her. Firefly was happy. Firefly was rejoicing. She craned an ear to listen to Firefly. _I could tell where Miroku was before you could._

_Gloat while you still can._

Akane was smiling when Sango turned around. It was a smile of relief. "Sango! I'm so glad we found you! We have Miroku, and Rin rescued Merle and Van. Let's get out of here! I can't stand being here anymore."

Sango smiled back. Her eyes were stuck on Miroku. Shabranigdo played Sango perfectly well, looking every bit the relieved lover and friend. "Yes," she agreed. "We should go." She stretched out a hand for Akane to take, offering her the reassurance of a friendly touch. Akane reached out to take it.

Sango's teeth were burning from the desire to sink them into Akane's neck. She was a muscular girl; there would be plenty of meat on her bones to satisfy her hunger. And the girl's fiancé was also rather handsome. It would be a great pleasure to have him, too.

_Leave Akane alone!_ Firefly snapped. Shabranigdo enjoyed watching red-gold sparks of anger dance across her mind. Firefly began fighting back, straining for control of her own mouth to voice a warning. Shabranigdo merely shoved painful memories at Firefly and the struggle lessened from renewed emotional pain.

Miroku reached out to take Sango's hand instead of Akane. She smiled at him lovingly. His name was a purr on her lips. "Miroku… I was so worried about you."

His eyes locked with hers. Both Sango and Firefly felt yearning for him when they looked at him, but Firefly was laced with a tinge of fear from seeing the violet wash over his grey eyes. His mouth was set into a tight line. Firefly was excited at the expression, and Sango simply wrote it off as foolish passion until he spoke. "Get out of Sango."

"What do you…"

"Get out of Sango!" His grip tightened around her wrist. Sango, and the others, could hear the bones and cartilage grinding against each other under his hand. His voice was a snarl. "Get out of her now."

"Miroku!" Akane and Ranma were shocked. Akane was coming forward to try and fight his grip against her friend. "It's Sango, for Christ's sake! Let her go! Are you delusional…"

His head whipped around to see her, and the sight of his fangs framing his mouth made her take a step or two back. His eyes were deep grey-violet, fueled by an eerie light that made them seem almost reflective, and there was a furious snarl to his voice that Akane hadn't heard. "I've spent enough time around Shabranigdo to recognize him when I see him. This isn't Sango anymore. She's been possessed. Don't you get it? Everything was a trap! He's always wanted her, and he's always wanted me! He used me to get to Sango. I was bait and Sango was foolish enough to take it!"

Akane believed him. Suddenly the purpose and stride of his walk and the anger that had squared his shoulders made sense. He was telling the truth. Everything had been a trap. She looked back and forth between Miroku's furious visage and calm Sango. "But… but…"

Firefly was reveling. Her laughter of relief and joy irked Shabranigdo. _I knew it! Goddamn it, Miroku, I knew it! I knew you'd see through it!_

Sango smiled at Akane. It was very much Sango's smile. Akane could find nothing wrong with it. That was made it all the more unbearable when she spoke. "He's telling the truth, Akane. The Sango you know isn't here anymore. Just me." She opened her mouth and drew in as much breath as she could, screaming out mentally and physically. "_Guards_!"

Miroku snarled and threw her against a wall. Akane was reaching for a weapon from her holsters, and Ranma was using a sort sword. Akane glanced at him, panicked. "We can't kill Sango."

"No," he agreed. "We can't."

"How do we get him out of her, then?'

They could hear the guards coming down the hallway. Ranma was turning to meet them. "Miroku and Shabranigdo are fighting right now. Let them deal with it for now while we keep the guards at bay. Then we can figure out what to do with Sango."

Akane pulled the safety from her gun. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Sango was fighting, and it was fun. Miroku's hands were everywhere on her, trying to wrestle her to the ground. She laughed gloriously, reveling in the battle. Miroku was used to being a gunman, not to the strange hand-to-hand battle he was now in. She could feel that his thoughts were disconnected. He was still hungry from being locked up for so long. 

"You can't get me out of this body," she wheezed when he had pinned her up against a rock wall. She could feel some of the sharper edges puncturing her skin, but she didn't care. She shook her long black hair. It was trapped beneath the arm he had pinned. "I like it here. I like this body."

"Too bad it doesn't belong to you." His breath was hot and rapid in her ear. Sango's skin rippled with the sheer pleasure of the proximity. Did he know how much Sango's body enjoyed reacting from the fighting? Sango felt alive from the way her heart pounded in her chest. His breath became hotter when he opened his mouth, stretching and testing his fangs.

She was going to make a witty comment when she felt his fangs sink into her throat. Sango gasped at the sensation. It was a clumsy bite and it hurt. It wasn't a clean bite. It was jagged and messy. She could feel her blood running down her shoulder from the wound, and she could vaguely hear Akane shouting at Miroku. She could feel his Adam's apple move as he swallowed the blood filling his mouth.

_Sango?_

His voice was in her head. Sango smiled, fighting back when she realized his plan. Drinking blood established a telepathic connection. He was using it to try and reach Firefly. _She's not here anymore._

_No! She's in here somewhere! Sango!_

He was digging through her mind, trying to find Firefly. He wasn't paying attention to his body. Sango kicked up her legs and forced them away from the wall of the cavern. Miroku landed on his back, Sango's weight falling on top of him. He still hung on, though for a moment his mind had wavered.

_Miroku?_

His heart jumped in his chest when he heard her voice. He wasn't even aware of Shabranigdo digging her elbow repeatedly between his ribs as she tried to break free of his arms. He reached out to that voice desperately. _Sango! You have to fight it, Sango._

_I can't. He's gotten so much stronger since I first met him. I can't fight him. I can't win against him._

_You have to!_

_Why? Maybe it's better like this. Kill me. Just shoot me between the eyes. I'll take Shabranigdo down with me. Then I can't hurt anyone else that I care about._

Her words made him pause. He had expected Sango to be fighting and he had wanted to encourage her, to make a path for her to follow him out. He hadn't anticipated this acceptance. He hadn't anticipated that she would have given up, or sunk this far down into herself. This wasn't the Sango that he knew.

_What has he done to you?_ he whispered.

There was a moment of silence. _It doesn't matter._

"Let me go!" Sango roared. They were in a dead-end hallway. Akane and Ranma were covering them. She could hear Suichiro's voice as he directed the waves of people coming to help her, but no one could get through the duo that protected the entrance of the hallway. Akane and Ranma were concentrating solely on protecting the entrance, letting Miroku deal with Shabranigdo.

He was, after all, the psychic.

Miroku was slowly becoming aware of walls around him. Pictures were forming in Sango's mind. He could see. He could make out the curve of her face and her hair as she sat huddled in a room by herself. He recognized the room. It was one of the cells at the IBSP. It was Sango's prison.

_Sango…_

She turned to look at him. There was no trace of the shapeshifter in her. Her eyes were plain brown, and her hair hung lank around her face. There was no sensuality in her mouth, but he still thought she was beautiful. She was completely human. He realized what had happened, why she was depicted like that. Shabranigdo had taken away everything Sango connected with her father's blood: her beauty, her grace, her power. Now all she was her doubt, her fear, her grief, and her self-pity and self-hate. This is what Shabranigdo had constructed.

_Leave me alone. Get back to your body._

_No. Not unless you're coming with me._

She shook her head. She wasn't going anywhere. Miroku walked towards her slowly. He knelt by her side, lightly touching her hair. It felt coarse, without the softness Sango must have equated with fur. _I can't defeat Shabranigdo._

_Of course you can't,_ she snorted. _If you could you would have done so before she turned you into a vampire. Leave me alone, will you? You should save Akane and Ranma, not me._ He had heard arguments like this before from her. What he never had heared was what came next. He was talking to Sango's subconscious. There was no place for her thoughts to hide. _I'm not worth saving._

_Yes, you are! How could think for one second that you aren't?_

_Because I'm a horrible human being._ _I'm a back stabber and a liar and a traitor._

_No, you aren't._

Sango looked at him. There was a faint trace of laughter in her eyes. _Don't lie, Miroku. I am. I hurt you. I lied to you. I back stabbed you._

He couldn't deny it. It was the truth. _That doesn't make you a bad person._

_It sure as hell doesn't make me a good person, Miroku._ She paused. _I know what you want. You want to save me. I don't want to be saved, Miroku._

_I don't believe that!_

This time she was quiet as she planned out her thoughts. _People who want to be saved want to be saved because they have something that they want to go back to. I have nothing that I want to go back to. I don't want to be here, either, not with Shabranigdo. This is a hell. But it's a hell I created. She traps me with my own memories. If I hadn't acted the way I had, nothing would be here to trap me. I made my choices and now they're keeping me locked up in here._

_I can't believe that there's nothing that you have to go back to. What about Akane? What about your uncle? Who's going to look after Yoruichi? What about your job? What about school?_

She didn't answer him. He could feel the shame. She didn't want to see her friends and family because she was ashamed of what she had done. She didn't necessarily have a job to go back to. She had defected in order to try and rescue a vampire. Miroku had to try a different tactic.

_What about me?_

She laughed but it was bitter. The sound ripped through him. He had hoped that she would react with hope, not this bitterness. He didn't understand it. _I don't have you. I would never assume that. I did once, and look at where it got me. Do you think that I'd settle just to be someone you occasionally have sex with when you're high from blood lust, Miroku? I'm not content with that. That's not worth living for._

_I said that because I was angry!_

_Knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less. I kept trying to tell myself that you had said that to get back at me, but it still didn't make the words hurt any less. When we were dating, I was always so proud to be with you. Human or not, Miroku, I was proud. But after that night… I was ashamed. I felt so used. I felt like I didn't know you anymore. The man I loved could never have been so mean. The man I loved could have never used me like that and then tossed me away._

She was starting to cry. Miroku felt strangely cold at the sight of her tears. Once upon a time he would have rushed to dry them, but now he just let them fall. He had meant to hurt her; he could admit that. He had never meant to hurt her this much though. He had never thought that his words would have that much of an impact on her. Yet he wasn't ready to accept it just yet. His voice was quiet. _Do you think it hurt me any less when I found you kissing Urahara?_

Sango sobbed. He still didn't move to comfort her. Her body shook. She wanted so badly to feel him hold her and yet she was too proud to ask for it. She felt that if he could hold her then everything would be okay.

_I still love you. I wanted to tell you that so badly, Miroku, but I was worried that you would push me away. And then I did and... and there was nothing from you! It was clear that you didn't care what I felt! You didn't return, you barely glanced back at me... you looked at me as if you didn't even know me!_

His heart wrenched. At first he didn't know what to say. _I'm glad you did tell me._

She turned to him. Her brown eyes were full of tears, but they made her eyes shine. Yes, he still thought she was beautiful as a simple human. _You are?_

_Yes. Hearing it made me aware that I still love you, too._

_You do?_

_Yes. But you lost my trust. I don't know if I can trust you, or if I'll get hurt again if I stay with you._ She looked back away, her shame renewed. He had tried to be as gentle as he could be, but it still wasn't enough apparently. He glanced up and down at her body, noting the way she was curled up on the couch. She was withdrawn from him and being defensive. First he was going to have to coax her enough to sit up properly rather than curl up in a ball. His hand brushed her hair again, letting his fingers drift deeper into her hair slowly, trailing it between his fingers. _Show me if I can trust you._

_How?_

_I don't know, but it sure as hell can't be done while you're in here._

Sango shook her head. She lifted her hand to her cheeks and dried them of her tears, blushing when her hand brushed his as he tried to do the same for her. _I can't make it by myself._

His other hand rested on her shoulder comfortingly, warm and heavy against her skin. _I'm here with you. I'll be beside you the whole way through._

_There will be things in here that you won't want to see,_ she warned. She laughed, but it wasn't as bitter as it had been before. _There are things in here I don't want you to see. Please, don't hold them against me._

_I will try me best not to._

She exhaled. _I suppose that's the best I can hope for._ She felt it strange as she rose beside him, not touching him. She had always been so tactile with Miroku. She could feel that his touches had been forced. He didn't want to touch her, here, in this place. It was too personal. He wasn't touching her body, he was touching her thoughts and memories. When he touched her, she knew that he could hear things, little whispers, remnant thoughts and memories. Yet, when she glanced back at him, his eyes met hers equally. Even in this place, looking like this, he still found her an equal. She felt her heart swell with love. Sango would do anything to make it work with him. She could accept that he didn't want to touch her. It was enough that he was standing beside her. _Lead me out, Miroku._

* * *

"What are they doing?" Ranma demanded. His sword was slick with blood from beheading demons, but he couldn't take the time to clean off his hands. 

"Grappling still."

Rama cursed and dodged a demon before slicing off a limb. Hot blood sprayed his face before he shifted his sword and took off the demon's head in a second slice. "This is suicide," he muttered.

Just as he thought that it was hopeless, he heard Sango snarl loudly behind him. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Sango's body was growing a lashing tail. Miroku was still biting her. He knew his friend wasn't biting to drink Sango's blood: there was too much blood running down between them and on the floor for Miroku to be drinking it. As he watched, Sango's mouth opened and bit down on Miroku's neck. His friend didn't even seem to register the pain.

"What in the world…"

"Whatever Miroku's doing, it must be pissing her off!"

* * *

_Keep going,_ he encouraged Sango. She had stopped when she realized that Shabranigdo was changing her shape, trying to lift those curved, deadly claws to Miroku's stomach to slit him end from end. HIs stream of thougths had ben interupted and for a second Sango had been alone in her mind, pushed back by Shabranigdo's offenses a few steps before she had felt him beside her again. _You can do it, Sango._

_But she's hurting you,_ Sango explained.

_I don't care._

_**How dare you, you insolent human? How dare you do this to me? I will rip the flesh from your limbs!**_

Miroku's laughter was a little insane, and yet it was full and strong. _Better to be eaten by you than for you to force me to eat you, bitch._ Sango's mind shook with Shabranigdo's fury. _Come on, Sango. He can't do anything to you to hurt you._

_**Can't I? I can hurt you, Miroku. The two are close enough.**_

Miroku could still feel his body. He was still connected to it. He felt claws rake down his back and dig into his body, ready to disembowel him. It actually made him a little worried, but even as he felt them prick his skin, the claws in his stomach retracted. Sango was slowly gaining control of her own body again.

* * *

_Back off! _Shabranigdo's head was strained as Suichiro heard it. _Sacrificing yourselves does nothing to save me. Leave the fight. Retreat._

_But, my lord…_

_Do it, Suichiro!_

He shook himself free of her voice. He looked around at the men and woman who had followed him to Shabranigdo's call. "We're retreating." He glanced back down the alleyway, where Shabranigdo was still fighting with Miroku. "She must have some kind of a plan. We must trust her."

* * *

"Holy fuck!' 

"Ranma!" Akane was shocked at the words coming out of his mouth, but she didn't have time to reprimand him for his language. She glanced back at Miroku and then at the retreating demons. The former was more important. She gulped down her fear. She had to be crazy to be about to jump into a grapple match between a vampire and a tiger, but she had to. Miroku wouldn't last much long with Shabranigdo using Sango's tiger shape to shred him to pieces. Already Miroku's shirt was in pieces on the floor, scraps adhering to his bleeding skin. If they didn't pull Sango off of him, he'd surely be killed. "We've got to separate them."

"How do we do that?"

"Got any silver?"

Ranma shook his head no. Akane cracked her knuckles. "Then we're going to have to use brute force." Before Ranma could stop her, she was on the ground, slipping her fingers underneath Sango's lips and pulling lightly on the skin, trying to dislodge her jaws from Miroku's shoulder.

Ranma sighed and jumped in too, fighting against Sango's claws and bracing Miroku. They didn't know how long the four of them were grappling until Sango's body began reverting back. She was changing back without clothes, too busy concentrating on regaining control of her mind to force them to rematerialize. Everyone was panting and covered in blood, not knowing if it had come from Sango, Miroku, the demons from the hallway, or themselves.

Sango smiled. She didn't even realize that was naked. Everyone had collapsed on the ground from fatigue. She was staring at Miroku, her brown-gold eyes shining with happiness. She looked to worst out of all of them, her chest heaving heavily from exertion and her body covered in Miroku's blood or the still-leaking blood from her neck running over her shoulder and tangling her hair. Reaching out, she placed her hand over his as she collapsed against Akane. "Thank you."

Miroku's lips and teeth were stained red from her blood. He kept licking them. "It wasn't a problem."

Sango laughed. Miroku thought the sound was beautiful. She was honestly amused. "That's a lie if I ever heard one."

Akane yawned with fatigue. "Guys? What happened to Shabranigdo? If Sango can move her body again, then…" She stared at Miroku suspiciously. "You are still Miroku, right?"

He nodded. "We're just going to have to lock up you and Ranma until Shabranigdo emerges in one of you, I guess…"

Akane stood up, dusting herself off. She glanced at Ranma as he came over to check on her. The sight of her covered in blood unnerved him. His eyes were full of earnest concern that made her blush. When he wrapped his arms around her, she wasn't shy at all about leaning into his touch. Ranma rarely showed any kind of physical intimacy, and right now, Akane needed a hug. She didn't even mind that he was covered in blood.

"And yourself," Sango said. "Just to be on the safe side."

Miroku nodded in agreement. "Shabranigdo could always be inside of me passively waiting for me to fall asleep or something." He smiled wryly. "Besides, I need to be locked up regardless. Vampire, remember?"

"It's wonderful that _you_ are willing to be held under lock and key, but I have a bit of a problem with that," Ranma said. All eyes turned to him, except for Akane's. She was too busy staring at the bloodied edge of the sword he held pressed against her neck. "See, it goes against my plans. Here's what we're going to do. You two are going to stand up slowly and you're going to walk into Miroku's old bedroom. I'm going to lock you two in there. If you resist, I kill the girl."

Sango's blood boiled as she watched the sword press tighter against Akane's neck. When she realized that Rama's eyes were on her, drinking in the sight of her naked body, she recoiled. She should have realized that Ranma was possessed as soon as he failed to get a nosebleed when he saw her naked. She heard Miroku growl. He had noticed Ranma's wandering eyes too.

"Ra… Ranma…"

"Shut up, Akane." She winced. It was Ranma's voice alright, but it was sharp. "Get inside, now."

They both slowly began to stand up. Akane refused to let it happen. She shut her eyes and then brought her foot down sharply on Ranma's feet. At the same time, her elbow went into his sternum and she lifted her hand, closing it around his wrist. Ranma didn't even know what hit him. As soon as the blade was away from her neck, Miroku lunged for Ranma. He was planning on doing the same thing with Ranma he had with Sango.

Sango knew it, too. "Miroku!" she cried. "Miroku, you idiot. Leave him alone! At least this way we know where Shabranigdo is. It won't do us any good to force him out of Ranma and then sit around accusing each other again of which one of us is possessed!"

"We should take Ranma in with us!"

"Miroku!"

"Let him go!"

The two were still rolling around on the floor. Finally, Ranma brought up his knee with the speed and accuracy that Miroku should have been expecting from his friend. It connected with Miroku's groin. Even as a vampire, it hurt. Miroku rolled off of Ranma, clutching his pants as he coughed from the pain. His eyes were blinded shut with tears.

Ranma scrambled to his feet. He took one look at the two women standing there, ready to grab him, and he ran. Akane was about to follow him when Sango took her hand. "We can't do it just us. We're going to have to get some more help."

"I could do it! I could!"

Sango shook her head. "Shabranigdo didn't want to kill Miroku or myself because we were useful to him. You're expendable. If he caught you by yourself, he would just shoot you. Don't put yourself in danger trying to be a hero. I did that and it almost got me killed." Her voice softened and she relaxed her grip. "I now it hurts letting him go. Let him go for now. We won't take this lying down, but we need to recover."

"But… Ranma…" She shut her mouth before she could start to cry. Ranma wouldn't want her to cry.

* * *

To be Continued... 


	24. The Unforeseen

AN: Wow. It seems like I've been writing this for so long, I can't believe that it's finally going to be done. I have only one more chapter to post, so I'll be doing that sometime after Christmas. Enjoy the second-last chapter, everyone. Yeah... I'm really going to need to come up with a new MS story. I need my lecher in my life. As this will be my last update to this story until after Christmas, I hope that everyone has a safe and happy vacation!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Unforeseen

"Are we going to the headquarters?"

They had just finished dropping off Akane with Fuu and Ferio. Sango hadn't told them about Miroku or what had happened to Ranma. Akane had been spending a lot of time over there since Miroku had gone missing anyway, giving Sango privacy at home. They would think nothing of Akane spending the night, and they could sort everything out in the morning.

Sango shook her head. "It's too late to start to deal with your vampirism."

Miroku glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It made the car glow red a little. It was two am. "So where are we going?"

"The cottage." She shifted her weight, wincing. "My neck still hurts."

Miroku leaned over. His breath was warm on the skin of her neck as he examined it. Sango wasn't the least bit worried about him being so close to her neck. After the harrowing experience of reclaiming her body from Shabranigdo for the second time, she trusted him completely. Miroku would never hurt her again. She knew it and so did he.

"It seems to be healing well. When we get to the cottage, I'll give you a neck rub. You seem pretty tense." He winked at her and then went back to looking out the window. For all of his smiles, Sango could taste his worry on her tongue. "Your uncle won't be there, will he?"

"I doubt it. He hasn't really been home a lot since Urahara died."

"Can we hunt when we get to the lake? Rin had a blood package on her, but I'm still really kind of hungry. I don't want to go to bed and then wake up finding I've… you know."

Sango knew that he wouldn't do that, but she nodded anyway. "We can hunt when we get to the lake," she promised him. Miroku's gorgeous smile was reward enough.

* * *

Akane was sitting at the window in Ranma's bedroom. Everything outside was dark and quiet. She couldn't stand it. Ranma was out there somewhere, and her friends had made it explicitly clear that she wasn't supposed to go out looking for him. She was supposed to stay at home and wait until the morning. Who knew what that monster was doing to Ranma while she was forced to wait for daylight! 

She sighed heavily and pulled her bathrobe tighter before stepping into the hallway. She'd make some tea. That always helped to calm her down.

Moving quietly to not awaken Fuu and Ferio she boiled some water and poured herself a cup of tea. Taking it out to the porch, she rested her back against the side railings and enjoyed the crisp summer air.

"Akane?"

She froze at the sound of Ranma's voice. Turning around, she saw him standing on the porch next to Fuu's. She took a step closer for the door. Ranma was truly gifted with his physical attributes. She had no doubt that he could very easily make it to her porch and grab her before she could shut the door behind her, but if he made a move for her, she'd damn well try. And if he did grab her, well then, she'd fight him with everything she could to keep him from getting to Fuu and Ferio!

Akane wasn't like Sango. Sango couldn't shoot Miroku. Akane liked using her fists. She had no problem using _them_ on Ranma.

She just knew that there was no way she'd win.

Ranma sighed loudly when he saw her start to move. "Don't scream. I just want to talk. I swear to God, Akane, I won't move from this spot. Just don't go inside, okay? I can't talk to you if you're inside calling the police."

"You could always just let yourself in. This is till your home too, you know."

"Yeah, but then I'd be close enough that you could punch me. I think it's safer for me over here."

She shifted anxiously. "What do you want, Shabranigdo?"

Ranma's face fell. "Akane, I'm not possessed. Shabranigdo isn't in me anymore."

"You're lying. You ran away."

"I ran away because I didn't want to have a fucking _tiger _to pounce on me thinking I was being controlled by some sex-starved demon."

Akane's hands were shaking. "You're lying to me." She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to believe him, but could she trust him? Shabranigdo may just have wanted to get inside. If he got inside, he'd rape her and everyone inside… he could beat Fuu so badly she'd miscarry. Akane couldn't take the chance that he was telling the truth. The repercussions if she fell for the story were too high…

He spread his hands. "There has to be something that I can do to prove to you that I am me, of sound mind and body."

"Well, there isn't!" she snapped. "He can read your thoughts. He knows everything you've ever thought, he can read all of your memories. What would you tell me, Ranma? What is there that you can possibly say that would make you think that I could accept it as being really you? Even if you told me what I wanted to hear, it still might not be the truth. Just Shabranigdo telling me exactly what I needed to hear to trust you."

Ranma was quiet, processing what she had said. "Are you willing to risk Sango's life?"

"What?" It came out a throaty, hushed sound.

"It's not a threat, Akane. It's a fact. There were only four of us there, and I was only touching one other person when Shabranigdo fled my body. Miroku. And he's…"

"Alone with Sango…" From the other porch he could see the whites of her eyes when she realized the potential danger that Sango was in.

"Are you willing to risk Sango being alone with Shabranigdo?"

* * *

"I'm going to bed," Sango yawned, locking the patio door behind her. She was well aware of the dirt and sap covering her feet and the sweat trapped in her thick hair, but she didn't care. It had been a long and draining day. She was exhausted. She lacked the energy to even contemplate starting a shower. "You can crash on the couch, Miroku. I'll be in my bedroom." 

Miroku nodded. "Blankets and pillows still in the hallway closet?" She nodded and moved in that direction. His warm hands closed around her shoulders and he kissed her forehead. Sango tensed at the touch. It hurt. There was no love to it; only affection. His kiss had been no different from ones she had received from Kakashi after having gotten a good mark in science. "I'll do it. You're tired. Go and rest, Sango. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

"Until then, Sango."

She was yawning and couldn't answer. Waving goodnight to Miroku, she went to her awaiting bed. Sango crashed on the covers. It was too much work to climb into bed. She fell asleep with a smile on her face. Miroku had done a much better job of hunting. He had improved in leaps and bounds. It had been incredibly impressive to see him running alongside her, matching her, matching her pace step by step…

It seemed as if she had just fallen asleep when she suddenly woke up again. There was someone in her bedroom with her. It struck her all at the same time: the breathing, the scent that was indisputable male, and the fact that it was Miroku.

He was sitting by her bed. She could barely make out his face, but his eyes were perfectly visible. They reflected silver-violet in the dark room. Sango sat up rubbing her eyes. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. Not by myself. Not when I belong here, with you." Sango's heart leapt to her throat at his soft words. He inched forwards on the bed, his fingertips barely touching hers. For being dead, his body was still warm. His voice was deep and almost hypnotically musical. Goosebumps began inching up her spine as she drank in the pleasant tone. "I was wrong. I lied to you earlier this evening. I know what I want. I want you, Sango. I need _you_. It would drive me crazy not to have you."

Her heart dislodged enough for her to speak. "Miroku…" Sango didn't even know what she wanted to say.

Miroku didn't have anything left to say. He leaned in. Sango didn't resist as his lips pressed tenderly against hers. They were warm and soft and she had missed them. One of his hands wrapped around her back, keeping her supported as he kept kissing her. Last time they had kissed, it had been fierce and powerful. This was completely different. This was slow and torturous and languid. Sango loved it. She loved that he was taking his time and that she could explore his lips. She loved how it was almost like re-exploring, like they were learning each other all over again.

His hands raised and she let out a sound of longing and surprise when he caressed her breast. Unlike his lips, his hand was firm, guiding her back down on the bed as he climbed on top of her. His shirt was already off. Sango's hands explored his back with her fingertips, enjoying the muscle she felt underneath. There was no trace of scar tissue from their last encounter, or the one before that…

She remembered that she was pregnant. She needed to tell Miroku. It was his child. Not then, Sango decided. She liked Miroku. She wanted to take solace in her time with him. They could fight over the child and if they wanted to have it afterwards. Now she just wanted him.

Miroku's lips began to travel down her neck. She sighed, pulling him closer, stifling a playful giggle when his sharp teeth touched her neck in a gentle bite. "I'm glad you like being like this," she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "I like you like this. But I loved you when you were human, too."

"I know you did," he responded. His hand snuck under her shirt and she squirmed. For being warm, he still had cold fingertips.

Sango paused. His hands were exploring her stomach, his lips on her neck. Sango pushed him back up so she could see his face. It was still startling to see those eyes. She missed his blue-grey eyes. They had been so gentle and steady. These eyes belonged to an animal, and not to the bookworm and playboy she'd come to love. Sango's expression was stern and even. "I'm not going to let them take you from me, Miroku. We'll find a way to undo what Shabranigdo did to you. I've lost so many people I love. More than once I thought I had lost you too. I'm not going to lose you again!"

Miroku smiled warmly at her promise. Sango nervously continued. "You may not love me anymore. You may not love me in the same way that you did before all of this started, but I still love you." Her nervousness faltered and she licked her lips nervously, avoiding his gaze. "Take from that what you will."

His face was gentle. For a moment, Sango could see the bookworm and smart alec underneath the silvery sheen of his eyes. Her whole being ached to reach on to him and latch on to Miroku; to _that_ Miroku she had first fallen in love with. He said only her name, in a shuddering breath that made Sango's heart pound furiously. There was such _need_ in that voice. Then his eyes closed, as if gathering his thoughts and composing himself, and it was gone. He wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he regarded her. "I love you too."

Her face erupted into a smile. Sango launched herself at him, kissing him with all the fire and passion she could muster in her exhausted state. His words had rejuvenated her. They went toppling off the bed as she lost herself in the sensation of his breath surrounding her, his taste pouring through her, alien and familiar all at once. Miroku was scrambling to get her shirt off. Sango wasn't really helping much as she was trying to strip off his jeans, getting in his way.

His mouth was scorching hot as he kissed her exposed flesh. Sango moaned at his touch, making him smile. "I've waited to have you like this for so long."

She laughed deliriously. The carpet was itchy on her but she didn't care because all she could think about was his warm breath floating down her neck. Sango wanted to live in the moment. She was being selfish again and didn't care about the repercussions. She wanted Miroku, to be intimate with him, and later they could sit down and rationalize everything. All she wanted was to know that he was safe, to know that she was safe, that they were unharmed and free to relish their freedom for as long as they could… Because tomorrow Miroku could be dead.

"I have too, Miroku."

He grinned. The sharp edges of his teeth brushed her neck, making her shiver in delight. She wondered what it would be like to feel her blood flowing into him, to know what it was like to sustain him and feel his mind brushing hers… But then, she had already had that, hadn't she? And it had been _glorious_!

"Oh, I think I've wanted this quite more than you do. You see, I've wanted you ever since I saw you. I've wanted to know you intimately. I know all there is to know about you Sango, but I have yet to learn firsthand how your body feels." He nipped at her neck playfully and lifted his head. Sango felt cold, but it was a coldness that came from inside. Miroku's eyes seemed empty, void of the warmth and adoration Sango had always seen in him. His smile was twisted and his hands had moved to her arms. His grip was tight; bordering on painful. "I have yet to hear how you scream in pain, Firefly."

The color at once drained from her face as her eyes widened. "You… you… how…"

"Don't flatter yourself, harlot." He shoved her down hard on the floor when she struggled to get up. His fingers were bruising her. Fear coursed through Sango's blood like ice water. "It's not just you. It's about Miroku, too. He took you from me. He helped evict me from your mind. You're weak. You never would have gotten out if it hadn't been for him. Well, there's more than one way to skin a cat. There's more than one way to break a woman."

"Get off of me!" Sango fought back. She struggled and wriggled under his hands, but she was pinned and they both knew it. Her fighting was weak and futile. It was frantic, without logic. Otherwise Sango could have easily managed to wrestle at least one hand free. Sango wasn't thinking logically. Instinct had overridden everything she had learned in self-defense. All she could think about was Shabranigdo overpowering her, biting her, raping her… and in Miroku's body! She couldn't let Miroku see that. She couldn't!

She wanted to slap that sick grin off of Miroku's face. It was a complete perversion of the smile that had always made Sango blush from insinuation alone. "Do you want to know what Miroku feels about his?" he growled.

Sango's anger was beginning to clear; beginning to hone. If Shabranigdo had any idea at all of how Sango's mind worked, he'd shut up, but he kept talking. The anger and fear was rising to a sharp and dangerous edge. She could feel her anger flooding through her, invigorating and empowering. "Don't… please…"

"He's crying. He's begging. I always thought he was so strong. You should have seen what I had to do to him to make him scream when I changed him. Now he's weeping like a little girl. 'Please don't hurt Sango. Take me. I'll be good. Just don't hurt Sango.'" He squeezed the arm he had pinned, making Sango cry out. "He doesn't understand yet that I don't want obedience from him. I want from him the same thing I want from you. I want to make you suffer, as I have. To never feel arms around you. To know that you were completely and utterly alone. And with this body, Firefly, I will have eternity."

The anger snapped. Sango saw her opening. One hand was loose enough that Sango could pull away. She whipped her hand out and balled it, punching Miroku's jaw. His head whipped back from the impact and his pressure lifted. Sango pulled herself out from under him and kicked him in the jaw. He went flying on to his back. Another kick, this one to his groin made him curl up on a ball. Sango grabbed the shirt lying on the floor and ran.

She tucked it into the hem of her pants. She needed both hands to open the door. She could hear Miroku calling to her, swearing and cursing. Her fingers shook as she tried to get the porch door unlocked and open. Her fingers just didn't want to work. When the lock clicked she flung open the door and was about to bolt when she realized she'd forgotten her cell phone and firearm. Sango turned back to get it and ducked when she saw Miroku in the kitchen. The second after she hit the floor she heard the gun go off and a vase exploded behind her. Water showered down into Sango's hair.

"If I can't make you suffer while you live, I'll just kill you. I don't need you with this new body. And from Miroku's memories, I can see you're not that good of a fuck anyway."

She heard the safety click off. Sango just began to run. Another bullet landed in the frame of the porch and a third made the window explode just as she cleared it. Sango straightened as she cleared the porch. Her throat burned and her breasts hurt from running. Even her feet hurt. She could feel rocks and embed themselves into her feet, but she kept running. She pulled on her shirt as she ran, cursing female modesty. As silly as it was, she already felt better knowing that she was no longer half-naked.

'Vampires aren't as good as tracking as we are. I'll go deep into the woods and then circle around back. He'll have cleared the house and then I can duck into it and grab my cell phone and call for back up.' She knew that she was technically a criminal in the IBSP now, but it wasn't like they couldn't come to help her. She hoped.

She never once got lost. Sango knew the woods far too well. She circled around. She didn't know where Miroku was. He was upwind from her and too far away to hear her. Part of her almost wished he was shooting at whatever moved in the woods. Then he'd not only be wasting bullets, but she'd have the benefit of knowing where he was.

The house was quiet and empty. It still smelled like Miroku. Water still dripped from the coffee table to the floor where Sano had launched herself. Her cell phone was laying on the kitchen table. Her gun was in her bedroom, where she always kept it in case of a night attack. She cursed herself for not having gotten it earlier. Sango fetched it first and shoved it into the hem of her pants at the back. Then she retrieved her cell phone.

'I need a quiet place to hide out. Someplace he won't find me.' There was a large tree that Sango always used to climb when she'd been younger. It was deep in the forest. He'd never look for her _in_ the trees, surely. And she'd already been out in the woods earlier. Miroku would have to sort through three different scent trails to find her. All she had to was avoid him until help showed up.

"It's very hard to run from an empathic vampire. Did you know that, Sango? Well, you know now." She spun at his voice. He was sitting on the porch railing. Sango took a step back in surprise. Small shards of glass from the broken window lacerated her feet, but she was too scared to acknowledge them. The gun was pointed straight at her heart. Miroku was an expert shot and now his body's knowledge was in the hand of Shabranigdo.

He tilted his head, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes. He didn't look tired at all. He looked eager. His hand shifted lazily and he pulled the trigger, blowing a hole into the floorboard beside her. "I haven't hunted in ages. Thank you for entertaining me, Firefly. You never ceased to entertain me. Now beg for mercy. Maybe you can change my mind about killing you."

She lifted her head proudly. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her body was telling her to flee, but she steeled herself into staying her ground. She wasn't going to run so he could shoot her in the back like a criminal. "No."

"What?"

"I'm not going to be a toy for you anymore, Shabranigdo!"

He bared his teeth. They were perfectly white in the night. "Fine."

Pain seared through Sango's shoulder. She was down on her knees before she heard the gun go off. He'd shot her in the shoulder. Sango could feel her blood run down between her fingers as she held the wound. Her arm hung by her side, useless. Her good hand picked up the cell phone she had dropped. Shards of glass twinkled like stars on the porch floor, turning red as her blood dripped down. Miroku would never have shot her. Miroku did not have a shred of control over his body. There was a killer in that body now. The next shot wouldn't miss.

But why had the first shot missed then? Clutching her phone tightly, she glanced up. Miroku was staring at his own hand. Ever so slightly, the barrel of his gun was wavering. Miroku was fighting back! She felt a smile pulling at her lips. She knew how much courage—or desperation—that took. She wasn't willing to bed that Miroku would have the strength to do it again. She would have better luck in the woods.

Sango ran.

* * *

Cursing, Shabranigdo lashed out at Miroku so hard the man's mind recoiled back into the recesses. Shabranigdo had learned his lesson. Miroku had not fought when Shabranigdo had first taken over his body—not as much as he could have. He was saving his strength. He was picking and choosing his battles, and picking them well. Keeping Miroku boxed in was tiring Shabranigdo. There had been too many jumps, too many battles… Worse, Shabranigdo found something in Miroku he had not been expecting. 

There was no ammunition here.

Oh, there was fear, and plenty of it. Miroku was scared his boss would kill him. He was scared of seeing his Fuu and Ferio while he was a vampire, scared of Sango being killed, scared of having their blood on his hands… but they were all things that sparked the anger of retaliation in him. There was no guilt, like in Sango's mind. Miroku had already accepted his mistake and the blemishes in his life. There was nothing to keep in subdued in his mind.

Who would have imagined it? Sango was always so quiet, that Shabranigo would have pictured her mind was always at peace, but instead she was quiet because she was always trying to sort out her problems. Miroku was always talking and flirting, but that was because he was simply being himself.

Keeping a hold of Miroku's mind was going to be a problem.

He leapt off the back of the porch, following Sango into the woods, stopping when he heard someone knew approaching. He smiled.

"Ah, Suichiro…" The other vampire looked at Miroku in surprise. Suichiro would recognize his master in any body. He was simply put-off when it was a male body. He had heard his master's call and had assumed he head recaptured Sango's body. Miroku smiled at him, revealing crisp, white fangs. "I could use some help…"

* * *

Miroku was not leaving her trail. No matter how fast or how hard Sango ran, Miroku kept on her trail. Occasionally a bullet whizzed by overhead, encouraging her to move faster when she slowed. She hoped she could shake him, get a chance to call for help, but it looked as if that wasn't going to happen. 

Branches scratched her face and arms as she landed in a clearing. Sango landed on all fours, breathing heavily. She couldn't do it anymore. She had been tired to begin with. Now her body was running out of adrenaline and blood. She couldn't push herself anymore. Pulling herself to the base of a sturdy evergreen, Sango leaned against it. Her gun was still in her pocket, her cell phone still held tenaciously in her blood-covered hand. There was only one option left. Even if she had enough time to call, help wouldn't get there in time. Either Shabranigdo would kill her, or she had to kill Miroku.

Miroku would die. If she shot him, she knew that Miroku would die. She'd have to hit him in the heart, repeatedly. It was the only way to kill him. Otherwise he'd just heal it in no time. She was thinking about his kneecaps. She could immobilize him, but he'd heal quickly. She could keep shooting until the police came… but he still had a gun and wouldn't hesitate to use it. No, she'd have to hit him hard and fast.

Sango reached around and pulled out her gun. She checked that the safety was off and held it close. She tried to picture Miroku as she had seen him in the bedroom: as a monster. She tried to picture him, tried to see herself doing it… And she knew then that it was futile. She couldn't shoot Miroku.

"Finally gave up, did you?" Miroku laughed as he pushed past the branches. One scratched his face, leaving a long bloody line on his cheek. Miroku didn't even seem to notice. His body was covered in many such red marks, some already healed. Others had been washed away by the sweat dripping down his skin. He stood up, straight and tall and proud and far too beautiful for his own good. He spotted the gun in her hands. "What were you going to do, Firefly? Shoot me?"

"Keep calling me Firefly and I might be able to do it yet."

Sango's eyes widened as Suichiro stepped into the clearing behind Miroku. Her eyes narrowed at him. She knew what and who he was. She had learned it from Shabranigdo's mind. He had gloated over it. Now that she saw them standing side by side, she wondered how she could miss it. Miroku was almost a foot shorter and didn't have the sturdiness Suichiro did, both of them had the same soft black hair and the blue eyes—now a violet-silvery sheen. It was the blue eyes that should have given them away… but how could they, when Miroku's had always been more grey, and Suichiro's had always been so much darker?

His rich voice was smooth, just like Miroku's. Shabranigdo had learned to hide his cruelty well. "You could never shoot me, Sango. But I could very easily shoot you." She watched his finger pull back on the trigger.

Sango's world went black.

* * *

to be continued... 


	25. Resolution

Chapter Twenty-Four: Resolution

"_Sango!"_

"_Ranma!"_

"_You!"_

_BLAM!_

"You touch one hair on my girl's head and I swear that the next bullet goes through your brain."

Everything happened in a blur. The darkness lifted and Sango rubbed her eyes. Arms were holding her and strange smells and sounds assaulted her senses. Familiar eyes stared down at her, overflowing with concern and sympathy. Sango beamed up at Ranma. Never had she been so glad to see him. She barely recognized him with his worry and concern so evident on his face.

When Ranma had walked into the clearing and saw Miroku about to shoot Sango, he didn't recall moving or thinking. Which was strange, because he had been thinking. He knew that if Sango died, Akane would never be the same and Miroku would never forgive himself for not fighting back more. He hadn't been thinking of himself at all as he rushed forward and threw his body overtop of Sango's to stop the bullet. Only when he heard Akane scream his name did he think for a second—a fleeting, freeing, uplifting second full of wonderful joy—that Akane would care if he died, too.

She loved him.

When Akane had seen that bullet heading for Ranma, she didn't stop to think if she could. For a moment, all of her self-doubt had fled from her, screaming and tearing away with the knowledge that if she _didn't_ someone she loved would die. Her mind plummeted towards the bullet, straining her grasp. The speeding bullet tore and dug and her mind, burrowing further and further, but rotating slower and slower. It was painful, but Akane gritted her teeth and bore it.

The bullet stopped an inch away from Ranma's head.

Shabranigdo was stunned. He turned to the others, intent to kill, when a bullet pierced his wrist. He snarled in pain and dropped the gun. He spun around, his teeth bared and his fangs cutting his bottom lip, staining them red. Kakashi stood, the grass bending down around him from the force of his fury. "You touch one hair on my baby girl's head and I swear that the next bullet goes through your brain."

He snarled. He could feel his hatred pumping through his veins, visible on every inch and limb of Miroku's body. The monster lurking beneath the calm blue eyes had shown itself finally. Safely tucked away in Ranma's arms, Sango let out a small squeak of fear. How could she have not seen it? How she could not have seen the obsession and the fury?

She wanted to rip off his head. She wanted to change and fling herself on him and sink her teeth down around that neck. She could feel the danger. He was a threat to her friends and the desire to protect them was rising steadily inside of her. The squeak turned into a low growl. Ranma's arms tightened around her, trying to keep her out of the way. She thanked every deity she could think of for those thick arms. She couldn't attack Shabranigdo. She had to keep a lid on her emotions. Miroku was in there. Miroku was _alive_ in that body still! She knew he was!

"Don't worry," Ranma whispered in her ear. He was so close his voice was almost painfully sharp. "We have a plan."

Just as Sango was wondering what the plan was exactly, a shining white figure cut through the trees. She took a moment to realize that it was Sesshoumaru. The unearthliness of his being had overwhelmed her for a shining moment. He was still himself: the same gentle white hair and glowing gold eyes and the thin purse of his critical, superior gaze. Gone was the Armani and Gucci black shoes. It was replaced with armor and a white haori. He was like spun moonlight. Glittering, proud, beautiful and deadly moonlight. Behind him, pursing her lips in a smaller version of Sesshoumaru's stern expression, was Rin, armed with her own sword and well prepared to use it.

Shabranigdo's anger was fueled by his presence. "You were supposed to be dead! You were… You bastard, Miroku! You told me he was dead!" There was an edge to that voice that made Sango think Miroku was fighting back. Although panicked, she could see the contempt and laughter in his eyes. Even Suichiro was staring in shock, finally seeing what lay beneath the seductive masked he had always seen. "No! No! You couldn't have possibly lied to me! You told me they were dead! Fuck you! Fuck you, Miroku! I'll see your soul tortured in the lowest bowels of hell for this treachery!" He spun around. "Where? Where are they? Where are you? Kuchiki Rukia! Kurosaki Ichigo! Show yourselves you incestuous…"

"Shut up," Kuchiki drawled. Her eyes appeared dangerously bored.

This was not the Rukia which Sango knew, either. Nor was the man beside her Ichigo. Sango was finally seeing them for what they really were. Something deep inside of her, both human and demon alike, was urging her to bow her head in obedience and respect for the two tall beings in front of her.

Cloaked in black, Rukia seemed taller than Sango remembered. Her eyes were dark blue, verging on black, and against her dark hair her skin was as white and ivory as Sesshoumaru's. Ichigo, in contrast, was deeply tanned. A large smile played on his face and his eyes flickered with something not unlike what she saw in Shabranigdo's. But then the other Ichigo took over, and the level resolve had returned again, though the smile was still there. The black katana he held in his hand seemed to hum with energy yearning to be released.

"Start the spell, Rukia," Ichigo commanded her. Rukia began to chant in a language Sango couldn't identify. Ichigo's eyes never left Shabranigdo as he held the sword ready, waiting for Shabranigdo to attack. "Don't expect help from your demons, Brother. Our people have them surrounded. Don't try to run, either. We don't want to hurt Miroku."

He laughed loudly. "Don't put on that brave face for me, _brother_," he spat the word out. "Don't act so righteous and innocent! You know full well that you'll need Miroku's blood to close that portal! It won't close until all my minions are gone, Miroku being one of them."

Akane's face fell at this news. She plucked the bullet where it was still frozen in midair and let it fall to the ground. She watched it disappear into the grass. It flickered as light began crackling forth in forked tongues of lightning. There was no sign of clouds or rain. Akane knew it was the spell. She could feel Sango's eyes on her, furious and betrayed. Akane's eyes were wet. "I didn't know that they'd need his blood to do the spell," she murmured.

"I know," Sango sighed back. "He's your friend too, after all. But… why do they need his blood?"

"Because it was his blood that summoned it to begin with," the other girl sighed. "Remember? They needed the blood of his family. As the last of his line, only Miroku's blood can close it… and even if there were another, like an uncle or something, he's still a vampire. He's still going to be sucked in because he's a _part_ of Shabranigdo now…"

For a moment, Sango's heart had swelled with hope. Suichiro's blood could close the portal, too, but his vampirism… "No!" Sango began fighting against Ranma's arms. She was starting to understand why Akane always lost to Ranma. The man was strong; stronger than he looked. "No!"

Miroku was trapped. He wasn't stupid enough to rush at Rukia, not while she was guarded by Sesshoumaru and Ichigo. He glanced at Suichiro, who was still standing there in shock and awe as he stared at the three demons. "Run, you fool!"

Miroku ran away from them. He was so busy thinking about them that he missed the punch flying out from the other edge of the clearing. A fist connected to his jaw, sending him down on the ground.

Rubbing her hand, Fuu appeared even more apologetic than perhaps she had meant to be. "Sorry, Miroku. I know that must have hurt you too. Please understand, honey, that we can't let you leave."

"Don't worry, Fuu. Miroku's a good boy." Ferio seemed to materialize out of the leaves themselves as he wrapped an arm around Fuu's slim shoulders. "I'm sure he understands what we're doing."

Shabranigdo smiled and launched himself at Fuu. Ferio's kick connected with his sternum. Vampire or not, Miroku went down and stayed down, coughing as he tried to regain his breath. Ferio's arm slipped down to hold hands with Fuu. He didn't acknowledge that his eyes were wet, knowing that he had caused Miroku pain.

Miroku scrambled to another tree, trying to escape back into the forest. A sword pressed to his throat made him stop. There was fear in his blue eyes as he followed the tip of the weapon to the man who held it. Van showed no sign of compassion on his face. Instead, he appeared almost eager, encouraging Miroku to try and make it by him. He was waiting for an excuse to take off a limb.

"I see your wings have healed."

"The IBSP has some very good healers," Van countered.

Miroku's upper lip curled up into a snarl. The flickering lightning made his dark hair shine blue. Van's seemed red-tinted in contrast. "Makes it all the more fun for me to tear them off again when I get out of here."

"Please, try." His grip on the katana he held tightened and his eyes narrowed, eagerly awaiting a fight.

Miroku bolted in the other direction. The air around him solidified. He couldn't walk past the edge of the clearing. He swore at the pink-haired girl hiding behind the solidified air. Her face flamed at his curses. The tiger sitting diligently beside her stood up, bristling and growling in anger. The pink-haired girl brushed the tiger's head comfortingly. Then she said a few choice words back that left Shabranigdo's ears burning.

He was surrounded. Akane, Ranma, Van, Merle, Sakura, Fuu and Ferio, Sango, Rukia, Ichigo, and Sesshoumaru all blocked in him. Even the trees had become a hindrance. He snarled, knowing that just Sakura's power would have been enough to hold him temporarily. The IBSP was not pulling any shots. They were going all-out in an effort to cage him again. Despite all of his manipulations and careful, strategic moves, he had not succeeded in breaking the bonds which now imprisoned him.

He looked up at the sky. The lightning was coming faster now. Rukia was still chanting. He could feel Ichigo's and Van's eyes itching for him to make some move so that they could attack. His eyes burned at the brightness of the light above him. His hair swayed to the wind that circled around the clearing, as if they were at the eye of a hurricane. He could feel his hold weakening on Miroku's body.

For a moment he was blinded as the light exploded. When his dancing vision cleared, the sky was light violet. It was the sky from home. He could feel it gripping at him, trying to force him out of that body through the ripping wind. He knew how it would work. He would go first, and then the others would follow. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to go back to that barren world. He liked this world.

He glanced at Suichiro. The man was beautiful, but worthless. He took a perverse joy in the pain and hurt that wounded Suichiro's handsome face when he snarled, "I should have killed you when I had the chance. I never should have kept you alive. You were loyal to me, Suichiro, but you're a fool." Miroku's lips lifted into a smile. "Meet your brother, Suichiro. Now say goodbye."

**_It seems your pathetic race has once again won_**, Shabranigdo told Miroku. **_Though not without the help of Ichigo and Rukia._** **_Without them, you would have lost._**

_Maybe_, Miroku agreed, _but we would have put up a hell of a fight first. If it came down to it, we'd make sure there was no body left for you to claim rather than live with your stench polluting us._

Shabranigdo laughed. He was walking towards the gun he had dropped earlier. **_If you truly wish martyrdom, lover, then I can at least succeed in giving you that._** No one stopped him from picking up the gun. It felt strange in Miroku's let hand. It wavered awkwardly as Miroku fought for control. **_You never would have done it. Not by yourself. Never by yourselves!_**

_We're never by ourselves, Shabby._ Miroku lorded over the annoyance he felt from the demon god at the use of the nickname. Miroku was fighting the last tendrils of that control with everything he had in him. He had not fought back for that very reason, trusting in Sango with all of his heart. He knew that at one moment the demon's hold would loosen and that would be when Miroku would fight.

What he had not expected, as he felt his mind regaining control, was the hands that took the gun from him. Suichiro knelt down beside him. His dark eyes were curious and cautious at the same time. "You're my brother?"

Shabranigdo screamed in rage and pain inside Miroku's mind. _And Shabby, I'm not your lover._

Miroku smiled, and for the first time it was seemed like an eternity it was his own smile. He nodded. "I don't know how, but I am. Rezo admitted it before he died. Did you know? Shabranigdo was the one who had him killed. She targeted the plane that he was on."

"He… he what?"

Sango was watching it all in horror. The arms that had sheltered her now became objects of her fury as she struggled to get to Miroku. She was praying that the gun wouldn't go off. What would she do if it did? She scratched and clawed and kicked, struggling to get to Miroku. His face had eased and lessened and slowly smiled. When his eyes opened, Sango knew that Miroku was whole again and himself. She bellowed out his name and felt it disappear in the thunder of the lightning overhead.

Ranma let her go. Sango scrambled with a tired and sore body and flung her arms around Miroku, kissing him. He kissed her back with such revelry that Sango felt she would die from happiness. Roaring from above them broke their kiss. All three in the centre of the clearing looked up to see Shabranigdo as he really was: a great horned monster letting out a roar from his beak. Clawed hands gripped the edges of the portal as his body tried to climb into this world. Wailing drowned out the demon's cry as souls and bodies began pouring into the portal; a ghostly white stream dotted by spots of color.

Suichiro felt the color drain from his face. "That's… _that's_ Shabranigdo…"

"Ugly bastard, isn't he?" Miroku laughed bitterly.

He turned to look at the other vampire, feeling surprised when he realized that he was smiling wistfully. "I think that had my father realized this was the demon's true form, he would not have spent his life trying to call it."

Miroku nodded and turned, wrapping his arms around Sango and holding her close. He had to yell to be heard over the thundering portal, the wailing of the damned, and the roar of their maker. "They're going back into the world in the order they were made. My soul is going to go second last. If there's anything that you want to say to me, now's the time, Sango."

"I want to go with you!" Her long hair whipped around them. It wrapped over her mouth and stung her eyes, but Sango didn't care. Her arms gripped his shoulders tightly.

"You know you can't do that. Your place is here, with the rest of your friends and your family. And mine. You have to look after Fuu and Ferio and Ranma for me, okay?"

"But who's going to look after you? Who's going to watch your back?"

Miroku smiled broadly at her. The tears Sango had been struggling to hold back broke when she saw the man she loved still existed in Miroku. She had been so worried she'd never his eyes lighten with mischief or see him smile like that at her again. There were promises in his smile that Sango's heart broke knowing she'd never see fulfilled. "I love you, Sango."

She could feel his body starting to pull away. Sango's grip tightened. The strength she had always been calling a curse around Miroku finally became an asset as she pulled him back down to Earth. Miroku's hands were on hers, trying to unpeel her. As much as he loved her for fighting, he couldn't bear the thought of her being dragged into that stream as well. He didn't make any pretty arguments. He didn't ask her to let him go. He knew that she'd never let him go.

"He can't have you!" she cried, pulling him closer. "I'm not going to let him!"

Miroku felt warm. Sango's arms wrapped around him and held him against herself. Warmth flooded around him from her, so vastly different from the cold and unearthly pull of the lightning above him. He heard her speaking, muttering to herself as if in a mantra. "You can't have him. You can't have him, Shabranigdo."

Suichiro also felt the pulling at his body, but it was waiting. Shabranigdo was fighting harder to widen the portal and climb out, but it was arduous. The souls had shrunk the portal. All that remained were the clawed fingers and the gaping, beak-like maw as he roared, struggling to widen the hole. He and Miroku were the last two creatures Shabranigdo had made. The portal was waiting for them. It wouldn't close until they were in it.

XX

Everything was golden. The wind and the lightning disappeared. Everything was suddenly as light as day. Sango found herself thinking of lemon tarts and oranges. Even the air tasted golden. She opened her eyes, still feeling Miroku's body pressed against hers and still feeling his hands fighting her away. The sky was still dark, and the wind was still a torrent around them, sending her long hair flying around them and knotting mid-air. But there was another figure there too, fighting with them against Shabranigdo that neither Sango nor Shabranigdo nor Miroku had seen. Sango gasped. "Urahara…"

* * *

This was not the Urahara Sango remembered. This was the man she had almost seen, once. This was the demon she could have married. He was Sesshomaru's opposite. He was tall and stately, and it hurt to look at him for very long. Urahara radiated light and heat, while Sesshoumaru was nothing more than shining. It was like looking into the sun.

He bent down in front of them and touched Miroku. The man she held stopped fighting, but his eyes stared blindly ahead. It seemed that Kisuke was only allowing Sango to see him. When he finished speaking to Miroku, his eyes turned to her. They were almost shy, and were pure gold. No hint remained of the friendly blue eyes she had dreamed about when she was a younger girl. Only the scruff on his chin remained and the slight curl at the ends of his hair. His fingers touched her cheeks gently, and his other hand lay on Miroku's hair. _You both did a good job fighting Shabranigdo, while I sat by and did little. I will make amends for these mistakes. It is my turn to fight once more._

Sango tried to speak, but she couldn't. Her mouth couldn't seem to make the words.

He smiled at her, and his thumb brushed her cheek. _The man you knew as Kisuke Urahara died on that plane. I was one of the originals, Sango. I continue to live in the other world, where part of me always lived. When I died, the part of me that was here returned there. So, you see, I am not as honest as you believed I was. I would have grown old and aged for you, but when the body died, I still would have lived on._

_I am not going to tell you that I love you, Sango. I did not come here for that. I came through now, when the portal was open to where we hail from, to tell you the truth I owed you from the very beginning. In your world, there are three beings who control all: the Creator, the Sustainer, and the Destroyer._

_No. Shabranigdo is the Sustainer. He controls lust, or love, and greed, and power… he Sustains. Rukia is known as the Creator. From her, all things were created. All of our kin came from her. The Destroyer, the Sun Lord, is Ichigo. Yes, that is what Akane always sensed underneath that calm exterior. Death can either be senseless or senseful. Always remember that. The Creator and the Destroyer joined together, and the Sustainer became bitter. He was excluded from their life. She made demons, he killed them, and all Shabranigdo had was the time in between. He became hard, and cruel, and lonely, Sango._

_He became to change the beings made. He turned them into his own image: longer-lived, stronger, crueler, twisted, and beautiful. Soon, our world became over populated. Ichigo wished to destroy it all and start all over, but Rukia wouldn't let him. Instead, they moved to a place they did not believe was inhabited, where they could begin all over again, and Shabranigdo, not wishing to be left alone, began to follow them._

_They discovered this plane inhabited. Rukia deigned to make races which could co-exist alongside the humans who lived on the Earth in small, tribal patches. She turned first to the animals, bending and recreating them in a semblance of three things: animal, human, and Other, like them. Sesshoumaru is one of the first. As am I. I am, and will always be, kin to Ichigo and Rukia, Sango, and kin to Sesshoumaru._

_In Greece, I was called Helios. In Egypt, I was Horus. I am known across many lands, and in all of them, I was the sun. I am like my father, while my brother takes after my mother. Now you know everything, Sango. You do not have to mourn for me, or miss me, for I will continue fighting our war with my kin, and one day, long after you are gone, I may return here, and help to try and rebuild the world that Rukia dreamed of, for the battle here is not done yet. There is still hope that we will win. You humans are strong-willed and intelligent. And loyal,_ he added, glancing down at the way Sango and Miroku clung to each other.

_And so, because of that, I am charging you with a message for me, Sango. Miroku's line, should it not die out with him, will continue, and may be used again for summoning Shabranigdo into this world. To prevent it, the de Foret line will protect it. Yes, Sango. Fuu and Ferio. Their child will protect yours, should both live. The key shall hide within the forest. Tell them for me, Sango… Thank you._

He glanced at Miroku again, and smiled cryptically. Then, without another word, he simply vanished. The pull on Miroku stopped suddenly. He was crying, or maybe laughing, as the wind and the sound and the flashing lights from above suddenly tore back into the world. The fight was still going on.

Sango turned to Suichiro. The man was lifting into the air. He stared at them, almost jealous, and then smiled. "I hear someone tell me that there was a war going on in the other side. Maybe I'll fight, if they'll have me. Don't tell Miroku I'm doing it for him, because I'm not. I don't want to boost his ego. I'm doing it for my father."

She nodded and he smiled at her. Then there was this strange kind of a pull, and simply vanished into a stream of light, vanishing into the portal.

The gentle lull was over. Everything was screaming and chaos again. Sango's ears hurt as Shabranigdo, still fighting through the hole in the sky. "We need to stop it!" Sesshoumaru cried, holding Rin close to his leg to shelter her from the wind. "Rukia!"

The short woman was close to her husband, pressed tightly to him the same way the white-haired demon held Rin close. "We need the blood first to start shutting the hole, and then the sacrifice will shut it behind them!"

Sango could hear them. "It's already done!" she hollered, trying to fight through the wind. "Shabranigdo… the last demon he ever made was Suichiro! He turned Suichiro into a vampire!"

"How do you know?" Ichigo yelled back, coming closer to them.

Her arms tightened around Miroku, as if she feared it was a plot to get to him to make him bleed. She stammered, caught off surprise. "I… I… Shabranigdo took me over for an hour or two yesterday. Miroku managed to help me force him out using a telepathic link." She registered how Ichigo and Rukia looked surprised at this information, studying Miroku with a new and appreciating expression.

"That's how Shabranigdo was able to get inside Miroku. While we were one, I could learn from Shabranigdo. Suichiro is his brother. His brother never died in the house fire. Somehow, Rezo rescued him. I didn't tell Miroku because I thought it would be too hard on him. Shabranigdo thought the same thing, and he wanted to hide Suichiro so he couldn't be used against him. He killed Rezo to keep him silent and to punish Rezo for the silence he had kept all these years. That's…" She stumbled, finding the words painful. "That's why the plane that Urahara was on blew up. Rezo was on it, too." "Rukia…" The red-headed man was turning to see the sky. The gate had changed color, the opening burning blood red. Rukia saw it too. Everyone stood in silence at it. Sango felt little pity knowing that Suichiro was dead and was surprised at it. Miroku's brother or not, he had been a cruel and evil person, obsessed with power and sex, and yet at the very end, something in him had changed…

"It's time."

She smiled sadly and stepped away from him. The wind tore at her black cloak and her hair. "Ichigo, I will see you again soon. It will only be a short while, love."

"Yes, it will be. Take care of our family."

She looked confused for a moment, trying to figure out which family he meant. Then he shoved her towards Van, who dropped his sword and caught her clumsily. In a moment, Ichigo vanished, as if he never was. The only trace which remained of him was the bent grass beneath where he had last stood. Rukia called out his name, and with a pop and a crunch, the portal closed. The wind faded, and the only sound in the clearing was the sound of Miroku's soft sobs of tearful laughter and Rukia's wailing screech.

* * *

Sesshoumaru approached her cautiously. "Rukia," he said, reaching for her shoulder. "You went last time. He felt it was time for him to go. He will return to you. When my uncle is weakened enough, Ichigo will return. Until then, this time, we need you here to help us through this." His voice dropped. Only Van and Sango and Miroku, close enough to hear them, heard his next words as he leaned in close to hug her. "We all need our mother when we have lost so many to tragedy."

She was still sobbing. "You're right. Always right, Sesshoumaru. You're a pain in the ass in that way."

"What kind of son would I be if I weren't a pain in the ass now and then?"

She forced herself to smile a little, stroking his cheek fondly and then throwing her arms around him. To do so meant she had to dangle her legs off of the ground as he hugged her back. Rin waited patiently to the side for her turn to hug and be hugged.

Akane stood up, Ranma standing dutifully by her side. Slowly, his hand snuck into hers. She watched the people around the clearing hugging and kissing and crying. They were all happy. The clearing felt strangely quiet without the howling wind and the roar from that awful, beaked monster. "That's it?" she asked. "It's over? Shabranigdo is gone?"

Rukia nodded, tears still making her dark eyes glisten. She was beautiful when she cried. "Yes. He's gone; sealed away again… hopefully for another few thousand years again. We can all go home."

Van picked up Merle, swinging the young girl on to his bag. She giggled, her tail wavering behind her as Sakura looked on, feeling a little lonely. "I'm looking forward to finally seeing Hitomi again."

"I am too!" Merle agreed cheerfully. Her smile broadened as Ranma came and swung Sakura up to his back. Teenager as she may have been, Sakura blushed and looked delighted. Merle smiled at her friend. "We're going home, Sakura! Want to sleep over?"

Akane laughed, motioning for Ranma to go ahead with Van and the others. She wanted to wait around to see what was happening with Miroku and Sango. Sesshoumaru motioned for her to go. "Take Rin with you," he told her. "This isn't for you to see."

She arched an eyebrow. "But Sango's my best friend and my partner. So's Miroku," she quickly added, pressing her point.

The tall man wouldn't be moved. "Akane, you have done us a great service. We will not forget that we owe you a great boon for your loyalty. This matter, however, does not concern you." She looked ready to fight over it. Sesshoumaru mentally sighed. Women were all the same. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I promise you that both Miroku and Sango will be along in a moment or two. Now, leave, Tendo Akane."

"But…" His eyes flashed red and he snarled at her. Akane sighed. He could never stand to be a decent guy for me than five seconds. "Fine, fine. Come on, Rin. Let's go catch up with Ranma." She swung the girl on to her back. Rin giggled. She had been feeling left out, but now everything was peachy keen again.

That only left Sesshoumaru, Rukia, Kakashi, Fuu, Ferio, and the two people in the centre of it all: Miroku and Sango. Miroku was no longer laughing or crying. His eyes were closed. Exhaustion had crept up on him and he'd fallen asleep in Sango's arms. Sango, still injured and bleeding, refused to let him go as she clung to him. She was afraid that if she loosened her grip on him that somebody would take him away from her. Tears stains had cleaned tracks from the blood and dirt on her cheeks. Her hair was knotted and wet leaves clung to it, but their parents still thought they looked like the perfect couple.

"I'm not going to let you take him, Sesshoumaru," she said, clinging to him tighter. She sniffled loudly and buried her cheek against his disheveled, black hair. "The portal didn't take him. Vampire or not, Miroku's a good person and you'd know he'd never hunt humans down."

Sesshoumaru pressed his lips and arched an eyebrow. "And you're clearly delusional, Sango." He paused and peered down at Miroku. "That man is not a vampire. Of course we're not going to arrest him."

She bristled in surprise. Her nose sniffed. Miroku didn't smell human. She had just assumed he was still a vampire. The problem was that, now that she looked, he didn't smell completely like a vampire, either. It was hard to tell because of the other scents that covered him. She leaned her head, burying her face in his hair and letting his scent just wash over her. She didn't know what he smelled like. He smelled like blood and leaves and the acrid scent of gunshot residue and sweat… He smelled good, but he wasn't human or a vampire. He was just… other.

Sesshoumaru sighed. Everyone was waiting for an answer from him or Rukia. The two glanced at each other and he yielded the floor. Rukia motioned for people to sit down. If they wanted the entire story, it was going to take awhile to tell. She sat down cross legged on the grass. She supposed she should start off with something simple. "Sango will retain her job at the Independent Bureau. While she will be punished for going against a direct order and releasing a prisoner, she will not lose her job."

"What will I be punished with, then?"

"You will be removed from active duty. You will no longer be allowed to chase criminals, Sango."

Her jaw dropped. "But that… that's what I do! And what about Akane? Won't she be affected by this, too? You can't punish both of us; especially not Akane! Not when she's been so loyal to you!"

"Of course we can't. Akane now outranks you. It was made clear to us that Ranma was going to propose to Tendo Akane the moment that Shabranigo was defeated. I suppose he's already doing it now. Their marriage, as you know, will elevate them to the position of senior member. While they may not yet hold the rights and responsibilities, I believe that the eight months Fuu has before she starts her maternity leave will be adequate time to train them in their responsibilities. You will be moved someplace where partnership is not required…" Rukia arched an eyebrow, staring at Sango. "Sesshoumaru, I believe that there is an opening in the research and development division?"

"I believe there is, Rukia."

She smiled. "I also believe that Tora Sango meets all the requirements for that position… or will next year when she finishes her bachelor of sciences. We will, therefore, hold the spot open for Sango until she completes her degree. If she wishes, she may then join that division."

Sango was numb. Research and development? The Bond level? It was all she had ever wanted! "Yes!" she cried, smiling. "I'll take it!" Rukia stared at her sternly and Sango coughed, dropping her voice. She shifted Miroku in her arms. "I mean, I accept my punishment. In fact, I wish for it to start immediately."

"Well, that can't be done. You will have your gun and license revoked for eleven months, Sango." She was about to protest but Rukia winked at her. "That particular area is hard to get into. It requires excellent grades. I expect that you will have a lot of free time in those eleven months to study and focus on your education to get the best grades you can. Urahara knew you could it," she added softly. "He's always had a spot open for you in that division."

"But… Miroku will have lost his partner as well," Fuu said softly. "What will he do?"

"Miroku has a job at the university," Rukia said. "He will not be able to keep it longer than three or maybe four years. In the form he is in now, he will no longer age at the proper speed. If I know my Urahara well, and I do, he has matched Miroku's aging process to Sango's."

"Urahara-sama could do that?" Sango asked in a whisper.

Rukia nodded. "Miroku knows what happened to him. That's why he was laughing and crying, Sango. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It's the first rule of science. Shabranigdo gained the power to transform people from human to demon. He does not have the power to take away vampirism; he can only create it. Oh, he can manipulate things, take other things away, and he can destroy. He moved Inuyasha's sight to Rezo, but he couldn't take unmake Inuyasha from a youkai to a human. The world would have been out of balance had that ability not be unchecked. So we gave that power to Urahara. He could not make a demon, but he could unmake one.

"That was why so much of his personal research was devoted to the study of genetics. He could do something, and yet his precious science could not explain how. He could do something, but he could not explain how it was done.

"Miroku can teach, if he still wants to, for a few years. After that, if he still wishes to remain part of the IBSP, there will be a place for him in the library."

Fuu sighed and hugged her husband. "Ferio! The library! Miroku would love that—getting to be around all those books all the time!"

Her husband laughed and kissed her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap. His gold eyes were dancing. "Yes," he agreed. "Our son would love that job very much. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear it. But that still doesn't mean that we entirely understand. We're grateful—more than grateful! But what is Miroku? What can he do?"

Rukia shook her head. "That I do not know. We'll have to wait until he wakes up. Perhaps Urahara told him. I was not privy to the conversation."

"Why do you keep bringing up Urahara? He's… he's dead… isn't he?" Fuu asked. She glanced around, her eyes landing on Kakashi.

Sango's uncle reached up and pulled down the cloth covering his face before running his hands through his hair and leaning back on the grass. "I know everything already. Sorry Fuu, Ferio. I wasn't supposed to tell. Urahara is and will continue to be my best friend. Sometimes, he was my only friend. I've known what he was since I was a junior member like Sango. He told me in strict confidence because I had told him what I was."

Fuu's voice was cautious. "And just what are you?" She was starting to worry that everybody in the building was turning out to be frighteningly powerful or old. She just wanted someone _normal_, like her or Ferio.

He shrugged, trying to be casual, but there was tension in his voice. "I'm a homosexual."

Fuu stared at him. She could feel Ferio hiding a snicker in the curls of blonde hair around her neck. "Are you certain that you're not an extraterrestrial? Or another deity? You're just…_gay_?" She could hear Sango snickering too. Kakashi was smiling, not taking offense. He didn't even bother to answer. Fuu sighed. "Well, that's a relief. It's nice to know that there're still normal people in the IBSP."

* * *

Sango gave Miroku a wide berth. He was taken to the hospital and looked over. The doctors could find nothing wrong with him, other than some malnutrition and his obvious external injuries. They told the anxious family members that he'd be up and walking around in no time and told them to take Miroku home so he could wake up in familiar surroundings. Fuu and Ferio had offered that Sango remain with them to be there when Miroku woke up, knowing that the young couple had things to talk about, but Sango had politely declined their offer. She didn't know if Miroku would want to see her. She wanted to give him freedom.

"I guess I'll have a little bit more free time than I wanted to have this summer," she said, smiling wryly. "Tell him that I'll be at the cottage if he wants to come and talk to me. I'll be waiting for him."

She went home. Eventually, Akane drifted in, her eyes glazed over in an expression of utter joy. Seeing Sango's silent agreement, Akane pounced her friend. "He kissed me! He kissed me and it was glorious, and oh, Sango! Ranma's a closet kisser."

"Closet kisser?"

"Yes! He's the best kept secret in the IBSP! Wow! Just… wow, Sango! I mean, you wouldn't think that Ranma would even want to kiss, or that he'd have a good grasp of how to do it but…" Her face flushed as she recalled the way his arms and held her close as his lips molded against hers. She had always seen those passionate, hungry kisses in bad television shows, but experiencing it was completely different. She had felt herself become swept up in the passion of that kiss, forgetting even to breathe. And when her thoughts finally did resurface to her mind, it was that she wondered if Ranma would put that much passion in everything he did with her and her knees went weak at the very idea. "God, it was worth waiting for!"

Sango slipped into the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest and snuggling tightly between the back of the couch and the arm. "I felt that way when I kissed Miroku," she said, smiling. "Did he really ask you, then?'

Akane blushed rose up past her hair line and she nodded vigorously.

"And?" Sango prompted. "What did you say? How did he ask?"

"Oh, you know," she blushed, digging around into the fridge in avoidance of the subject. "It's _Ranma_. I love him dearly, but it takes Armageddon to make him admit his feelings. He just said that he wanted to marry me, and that he thought he could make us a good home, and he wanted his kids to be as strong as an ox, just so long as they got his looks…" Akane sighed, leaning on the counter with a glass of orange juice in one hand. "And that he loves me, and he doesn't care who knows it, because if they so much as look at me inappropriately he's going to knock them out, so the world better be warned. _God_, I love him. How's Miroku?"

She shrugged. "Last time I saw him he was still asleep. I figured that I'd let him recuperate before we talk. I don't think that it's going to be a pleasant talk."

"Yelling?"

She shook her head. "No, pointing fingers. I don't care what he blames me for, so long as he smiles at me and maybe gropes me." Her friend arched an eyebrow, having lost count of the times Sango bitched about Miroku's wandering hands. Sango returned her suspicious expression with a tentative smile. "I just seem to remember that whenever our lives get stressful, he completely backs away from me physically and won't get close to me. If he could just reach out and hold me, or better, to try and elicit a blush or a laugh from me by groping me, then I feel like everything would just be _normal_ again."

* * *

It was two days after her talk with Akane that she saw Miroku again. Sango was pouring over her schoolbooks. She had taken Rukia's word to heart and was already studying, refreshing what she had learned over the past three years of her university life. She wanted to do well, if not for herself or for her uncle, then for Urahara because he had known she could do it. She wanted to excel and to take up his experiments where he had left them, continuing his work. If she didn't finish them, then who knew! Maybe in a few centuries he'd return and resume _her_ work!

The door bell rang. Home alone, Sango immediately went to answer it, still busy thinking about the structure, parts, and purpose of the human cell. She nearly froze when she found Miroku standing on her door step, his hands dug tightly into the pockets of his jeans. Actually, she did freeze, and she just kept staring.

Miroku kept changing on her and it wasn't fair. Before, when he had been human, he had always been charming and witty and it had showed in the expression of his clear grey eyes and the wit that edged his words. He had been amazingly attractive, but it had been a classical kind of attraction. As a vampire he had possessed unearthly beauty, with pale, flawless skin and eyes that flashed the light back at you in a violet sheen. It been a dangerous, deadly attraction and any hint of the man Sango had first fallen in love with had been trapped under the porcelain expression and the cold demeanor of his nature.

Now he was neither, and yet both. As he moved, his eyes still flashed for a moment when the sun struck them, highlighting deep wells of a violet haze, but his skin was far from porcelain. Lines caressed the corners of his mouth and his cheeks burned brightly. He smiled at her when she opened the door and Sango's heart nearly burst at the way the corners of that sensual mouth turned up into a charming, lopsided and devilish smiled she had missed.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

She held up a hand, taking a moment longer to look over his body, enjoying the way the things she saw were at once both familiarly human and exotically _other_. Her eyes flicked back up to his and she stepped out of the way, motioning for him to enter. Miroku marched in, slipping off of his shoes.

"Do you want to talk in the living room?" he asked as he stacked his shoes against the wall of the entrance.

Sango frowned, but slowly nodded. "Did you want something to drink?"

"Sure." He laughed, as if it were funny that she was offering him something to drink. It made Sango pause, but he glanced up at her and smiled, winking. "Don't worry. I can ingest human food. Anything you've got is just fine, Sango, but I think I'd prefer a glass of water. It's a long way out here."

"Did you walk or something?"

"Nope." There was a sigh as he stood back up. Sango smiled, opening the fridge door for some cold water. He sounded sore. "I biked."

Ah, that explained that then. It also explained why he looked flushed. Sango poured two glasses of water and passed one to Miroku as he walked by the kitchen. She picked up her own glass, reflecting on how fluidly they worked around one another, like clockwork. It was refreshing.

"So." Sango slowly climbed up on her favorite side of the couch, her trustworthy pillow in her clutches with her water beside her on the coffee table. Miroku arched an eyebrow but did not inquire about her obviously defensive behavior. "You're looking good."

"I feel better than I ever did before. I couldn't have biked out here without a coughing fit before all of this happened. Now my lungs don't hurt at all. Look." He unbuttoned his t-shirt and pulled it aside to reveal the top of his pectorals. There was sign of the scars that had once been such a strife to him. "It's like it never even happened. I'm stronger than a normal human. I'm faster than a normal human. But I still can't win against Ranma, so it keeps me humble."

She felt herself smile at the silent laughter in his eyes. "But it still doesn't explain what you are," Sango said.

"I'm Miroku. Isn't that enough?" he shrugged.

Sango sighed. "I wish it were. It answers who you are, Miroku. It doesn't answer _what_ you are, no more than it would if I said that I was Sango rather than being half-human or a tiger-shifter. You were still Miroku when you were a vampire, and I'm aware that you're still Miroku now, but… I…" The rest of her words failed her and she let them trail off, sinking back into the couch.

"You just don't feel level with me because you don't understand what I'm capable of anymore, is that it?" She nodded, her expression grateful. "Unfortunately, we're both in that boat, Sango. I don't know what I'm exactly capable of, either. I mean, I'm not exactly human anymore, but I'm not exactly a demon either… I'm dead, Sango."

He'd been staring out the window as he spoke, almost half-consumed by his own thoughts rather than the conversation at hand. Slowly, he turned to her, his eyes a stormy, serious grey. "I'm not being metaphorical, Sango. Kikyou killed me when I was turned into a vampire. I'm a walking contradiction, now. I breathe, but I'm technically dead. I need to eat, but I'm technically dead. I bleed and feel pain, but I'm technically dead. And I'll age, even though…"

"You're technically dead. Why technically?"

"Because my heart hasn't beaten since I was changed over. By today's sciences, you can't be alive unless you have a heartbeat. Urahara changed it when he undid whatever Shabranigdo had done to me. I don't need human blood to live, I don't get blinded by sunlight, I'm not as strong telepathically as I was before, and I will age and eventually die. But technically I've already died once. I just came back, like, a week later." A frown made his eyebrows draw closer together, lines of concentration wrinkling his brow. "So, yeah, you're not the only one who doesn't understand what I am."

"How strong is your empathy?"

He arched an eyebrow, pulling himself out of his serious self-examination. "With you? Unsurpassed. With anyone else? I can feel emotions, now and then see a few flashes of color to hint at their mood, and if they aren't skilled at guarding their thoughts, sometimes I can read them. Oh, and," he said, straightening. Sango felt light, cool fingertips race up her arm to brush her hair back from her shoulders for her. Miroku gave a small smile of childish delight. "I can do that. It's all illusion and suggestion implanted directly into someone's mind."

Sango shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to press her warm palm into where that ghostly hand had laid and chilled her shoulder. "So… you're…"

"New," Miroku suggested with a wink, lazily reclining back and sipping his water as he stared at her. "But I didn't come here to talk about me. I came here to talk about us." Sango immediately tried to bolt but in a blink he was leaning over to her side of the couch, his hand against her opposite shoulder as he kept her from bolting. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes. "Would I bother to come here to tell you that I never want to see you again when we already had broken up?"

"When… oh. The letter."

Now he frowned. "Yes. The letter. _Your_ letter. No…" He sighed and the hand on her shoulder slowly patted her apologetically. "I'm being accusative and I don't want to do that. Ugh. Where do I begin…"

He groaned and leaned back against his side of the couch. Sango could see his muscles stretch and pull underneath his shirt and discreetly looked away. Eyeing him would not help their conversation. "Sango, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm willing to put everything behind us since the night when we slept together. As far as I'm concerned, nothing else happened between us between then and now. I'm never going to use how you acted against you—or I'm going to sincerely try my best not to—and I don't want you to hold it against yourself, either."

Sango's cheeks burst into a vibrant blush of color. She _had_ been holding it against herself and now that her secret was out she felt ashamed. Her eyes lowered, she didn't notice him move closer to her until her cool fingertips brushed her warm cheeks. She leaned into the touch, having missed those gentle caresses.

His throat clenched as he tried to speak. "Sango, I…" His heart beat in his chest so strongly that his words failed him. He cursed himself mentally, letting his hand fall to her shoulder as his other hand lifted her chin up. "Sango, if I'm going to tell you that I love you, won't you at least do me the courtesy of looking at me when I say it?"

Her lips parted as she stared at him, rather taken aback, but pleased at the smile he wore. Miroku slowly pulled her pillows out from under her arms so that he could draw her closer to him. "Being… h_aving_ Shabranigdo inside of me gave me a new perspective on some things. When he was in control of my body, he was showing me pieces of you. He would laugh at me, telling me what he was planning on doing to you…"

Here his grip tightened and his lips pulled back into a snarl so ferocious the vampire that still existed in Miroku rose to the surface before he got it under control once more. "And then he'd tell me that you loved me to make the sting of it all that worse. I already knew that you loved me though, because you had told me that yourself. I just hadn't understood until I saw it through your own eyes."

Miroku paused delicately, glancing away from her and licking his lips nervously. He knew how she felt about him, but this was still hard. "Sango, I want to start over again. I've wanted to start over again since my commencement. I've asked almost everyone I know about how to ask you because I wanted you to remember it for the rest of your life, but… Sango, I want you to marry me."

Sango's lips parted as her draw dropped slightly. She only managed to get out a soft sound of surprise before Miroku was speaking again, digging into his pocket and pulling out a velvet covered box.

"I'm serious, Sango. I want to start all over again with you as my fiancée. But there's one condition on my offer, Sango."

She drew back, concerned. "Condition?"

Miroku nodded. "The child. I want you to have it."

Sango's skin suddenly felt cold. She turned away from him, the grip in her fifts as she held them over her knees almost painful. Her voice was softer. "You... you know about that, then?"

"Of course I do." The note of bitterness in his voice made Sango's heart sting. When she glanced at him, she found that his eyes had darkened to a deep, sapphire blue. "Shabranigdo would mock me about that, too. I found out from him. It hurt--I would have preferred hearing about it from _you_, Sango. Why didn't you tell me?"

At first she simply shurgged. Then she felt that gaze switch tracks, from questioning to patronizing. He knew she was lying and avoiding the question. "I... I was scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't know! Of hearing you say that you didn't want it! Of hearing you say that you did want it! I don't even know how _I_ feel about it!"

"Do you want to keep it?" he asked suddenly. He watched as Sango bit her lip apprehensively. The expression stung. His long-lashed eyes were somber. "I don't know if I can have anymore children, Sango. We're lucky enough to have one now. It was a once in a lifetime chance, Sango! I want to have this child with you. I know that it'll be difficult, especially for you, and you'd be losing school time because of it, but… I want us to have this child!"

His voice cracked and he set the box on the couch between them to take one of Sango's hands into his own. "Bear my child, Sango. Please?" When her eyes remained locked on the box and the gold ring therein, she didn't answer. His grip tightened a little and his voice was almost begging, but it was the eyes that killed her. He had always had such pretty eyes. "Please, Sango?"

"What about my schooling? What about my job?"

"You know that there'll be there waiting, and I'll help Sango, in whatever way I can. You know that. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but we can do it--together."

She smiled and felt a familiar itch on the apple of her cheeks. She was crying. Sango lifted a hand to brush Miroku's dark hair away from his eyes from him. "Okay, Miroku. Together."

* * *

Fin

AN: I was debating doing an epilogue, but it wasn't really happening. So instead, it ends like this, as one long chapter. Thank you for putting up with me and my crazy-assed stories. It was quite an adventure. I was plagued with rabid plot-bunnies and I was really happy to have such a plot-heavy story rather than focussing on character development, as I usually do. I hope that it was worth it for you, my beloved readers, as well. Have a safe and happy 2007, everyone!


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